A Future Ago
by Larinzia
Summary: Post-7th Year. The final battle with Voldemort and his minions rips everything apart. Ginny thinks she has to go on alone but Neville tries to come to the rescue. Love happens. Lots of sighs. Neville & Ginny - as it should be!
1. Prophecy Fulfilled

The Harry Potter universe does not belong to me. I am merely borrowing the inspiration from JK Rowlings and the many large corporations that own a part of it.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Prophecy Fulfilled  
  
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. -Walt Whitman  
  
Harry Potter looked around the room at the mangled group before him. The brief respite in the fighting had left them time to regroup and pretend the world was right once again. His eyes lit on Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley clan. She had gathered the other girls into the corner and seemed to have instigated a hair and makeup session. Even in the middle of a war as evil as this one, Ginny reached out to the people around her. She was his constant source of joy. He only hoped that he was worthy of her. Someday, maybe.  
  
"Let me look at that gash, Harry. It hasn't stopped bleeding." The touch on the inside of arm and the sharp pain that followed brought him crashing back to the reality of his situation.  
  
"Thanks, Tonks. I completely forgot about that." The gash on the inside of his arm had been constantly rubbing against his body during the last week of fighting, not getting a chance to scab over.  
  
Tonks looked tired. She had been helping Hermione with some of the simple doctoring the group needed. Terry Boot and Neville Longbottom were both trying to see out of blackened eyes while Ron groaned in agony from the wand that had been thrust into his upper leg. Yellow and pink sparks erupted from the wound every time he breathed and pumped more blood past the embedded tip.  
  
"If we can get a couple more hours of peace, everyone will be okay." The woman looked at him through narrowed eyes, gauging the battered young man before her, but her apprehension was quickly erased away with a huge smile reminiscent of the pink-haired girl that he had first known. "Hermione seems to think you have a plan. I know better, though. You're still that fast-talking kid I met all those years ago. It's just that you're the best bluffer we have in the room."  
  
"Give me some credit," Harry laughed. He noticed that Ginny looked up and smiled at him when she heard the happy sound. They shared a special glance and then went back to the stark reality before them. "I just want this to all be over. I'd do anything to have it end. How much more can we take? Even the Death Eaters seem to be at their wit's end."  
  
One of the Dark Lord's good ideas had cost Dumbledore's Army some of their best and brightest. It was painful to think about the group that had found themselves at the end of the dark alley in Hogsmeade. Rescue hadn't come in time. This conflict needed to end soon or more lives would be lost. Inspiration rested on him for a moment and the plan formed clearly in his mind.  
  
"Tonks? Do me a favour and get everyone together. I have an idea."  
  
***  
  
Ginny watched Harry as he paced in front of the fireplace that dominated the darkened room. There was no missing the spark that had lit up his eyes from deep within. His green eyes were bright and his smile was sure. She had never loved him more.  
  
Of course, they hadn't had many moments together to work through the feeling that burned inside of both of them. Quiet words spoken in the dead of night as the others slept around them. Kisses stolen as they passed each other in darkened hallways. It all added up to a relationship unlike any Ginny had ever had in the past. She and Dean still laughed about the six months they had dated. This wasn't dating. This felt like - love.  
  
"I know this plan seems childish but I think that they'll be expecting us to hole up. Not pull off something that would risk any more injury to the group."  
  
Terry raised his hand, the black finally beginning to fade from his face. "Are you sure about this, Harry? I don't want to say this but ." The Ravenclaw tried not to let his apprehension show but he had a hard time getting his question out. Knowledge was evil when it proved a friend wrong. "Well, the odds are against us. Even the best flyers among us can't hold off a horde of Death Eaters for long."  
  
"Yes, I agree with you." Everyone stared at Harry and Ginny had to laugh. He had agreed that his plan was useless. How many times had he told her that a good leader knows when to admit to a weakness? There was a spark in Harry that made him a good leader now but she could see that one day he would be able to inspire followers without words.  
  
With a shake of her head, Ginny reminded herself that she needed to concentrate on what Harry was saying and not on how cute he looked when he scrunched up his nose to move his glasses as he continued to speak. "The plan is a tad fool-hardy but that's what will make it work. Let's remind our hooded enemies that we're just a bunch of kids." Harry caught Tonks' eye and smiled. "We need to cut the enemy down where they are the weakest and where it will hurt them the most. We need to end this!" For emphasis, he pounded his fist into his palm.  
  
The group nodded, beginning to see where he was coming from with this idea. In unspoken agreement, they all began to filter downstairs to prepare. Ginny lingered behind, hoping that no one noticed she was trying to talk to Harry alone.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked quietly as he sat down beside her.  
  
"I think that this is what we need to do. Don't worry, squidgy." She poked him in the ribs, using her pet name for him to bring out a smile.  
  
"I love you. You know that, don't you? I wish that things were different and I could give this to you at a better time, but." The ring he took out of his pocket was a gold band with fire-coloured stones that sparkled even in the darkened room.  
  
"Harry! It's beautiful." She reached for the ring but he held on to it.  
  
"No, let me." Instead of reaching for her left hand, he took her right hand and slid the ring on her middle finger. "It will fit whatever finger you put it on but I don't want you to put it on your left hand. I want to be able to ask you when this is officially over to be my wife. There's too much hanging over our heads to do it now."  
  
For a moment, Ginny had forgotten about the suffering, the upcoming battle, the war still raging outside the walls of Black Manor. "When this is all over, I want you down on your knees, with this ring, asking me the question that I want you to ask."  
  
"Will you give me the answer that I want you to say?"  
  
She kissed him instead of answering him out loud. Snuggling up to each other, they forgot the people who could walk in until Ron came limping back into the room.  
  
"Forgot the war, have we? Well, everyone's ready to go downstairs. Need to find my wand. Not that it'll do me any good." Ron's mournful gaze fell on the broken piece of wood in the corner.  
  
Detaching himself from Ginny's lips, Harry laughed at his best friend. "Take it down to Dumbledore. He's bound to be able to fix it. It's not a bad break, really."  
  
"Is there anything I should know?" Ron asked, eyeing the couple.  
  
"Congratulate me, ya big great lummox. Your mum's favourite son is actually going to be a part of your family!"  
  
The two young men clapped each other on the back, calling each other names and, in general, acting like the two adolescent boys that they were not very long ago.  
  
"Are you forgetting someone, big brother?" Ginny asked, approaching the boys with two fists, ready to defend herself against their juvenile antics. All three embraced, each boy kissing a cheek.  
  
"Let's go fight!" yelled Ron, raising his mangled wand high in the air. "Nothing can defeat true love." He grinned down at Harry and Ginny as both of them laughed at his silliness.  
  
Ginny smacked his hand down. "Shut it, Ron. This is serious." Both Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes as they watched Ron walk out through the doorway.  
  
Before they followed, Harry stopped her with a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "But this is definitely true love."  
  
***  
  
The battle was not going as planned. Harry stood on the frontlines, behind a bush with Tonks, Moody and Dean. The others were scattered among the few shelters the park afforded them.  
  
"Moody, this isn't working. What are we going to do?"  
  
Neville came running up to them, his face scratched and bleeding from the tree he had just been pushed out of. "Darn pixies. Never did like those things."  
  
Moody looked at the two boys in front of him in the fading light. "What we need is a diversion. You three will do nicely."  
  
"What?" asked Harry, pushing his glasses up as they slid down his sweaty nose.  
  
"Don't ask questions, boy. Listen. Tonks, you change to look like Harry. Between you and Neville, you should be able to fool most of the people into believing that Harry is somewhere he isn't."  
  
Within seconds, the plan was put into action. Harry stayed behind the bush for a couple of seconds to let Neville and Tonks get ahead of him and over to the perimeter of the fighting. He surged forward, toward to middle of the open area. The two decoys had done their job and were confusing the Death Eaters into shooting spells away from Harry's position.  
  
The crackling sound in front of Harry caused him to slow down just as Voldemort Apparated just a few feet from him. "Good plan, Harry. Except I ALWAYS know where you are. You should have figured that out by now. There's no one to save you now."  
  
Both Tonks and Neville realized the danger and reversed their course. Ginny, watching the action from a nearby overturned bench, rushed forward at the same moment that Voldemort raised his wand. Harry, back-pedalling furiously, was thrown backwards by the force of the spell.  
  
With a mighty roar, Neville leapt forward between Voldemort and his fallen friend but it was too late. With desperation only the heartbroken feel, Neville summoned every bit of strength in his body and pointed his wand.  
  
"Go ahead, boy. You can't kill me. You don't have the backbone to pull off the spell. Just like your father. Just like Potter." He threw his head back and the air was filled with evil laughter.  
  
With a scream of rage, Neville threw his spell. A flash of light. A stuttered exclamation of surprise. Silence.  
  
When the sparks died down, Ginny was kneeling with Harry in her arms. She had caught him just as he fell to his knees.  
  
Voldemort's lifeless body had also been thrown backwards, landing on a pile of rock. At the moment of his demise, every Death Eater fell dead. Every wizard or witch with the Dark Mark collapsed instantly.  
  
The silence was shattered by a scream.  
  
"HARRY! NO!"  
  
Slowly, the remaining fighters came out from behind their defensive positions to gather around their fallen hero and his grieving family. Ron had run up, only to be pulled away from his sister by Hermione. They clung to each other as Moody confirmed their greatest fear. "He's dead."  
  
Ginny's screams filled the air. "NO! NO! HE CAN'T BE DEAD. NO!" The hysterical girl was beginning to shake Harry's shoulders, as if trying to wake him up. Tonks, back to her original self, closed her eyes and uttered a word as her wand flashed. Immediately, Ginny was silent and still. Moody picked up Harry's body and Disapparated. The others followed his lead, knowing that he was headed to Black Manor, their base of operation and home for most of the last few years.  
  
Hermione let go of Ron and he ran towards his sister with a cry of anguish. Tonks lifted her spell and Ginny fell to the ground, weeping hysterically. Ron lifted her onto his lap, stroking her hair and murmuring silent words only for the two of them to hear.  
  
Dumbledore Apparated in front of them, looking incredibly old and worn. Beckoning to Hermione, he lifted Ginny out of Ron's arms and disappeared. Hermione, supporting most of Ron's weight, traced his face with delicate and dirty fingers. "Let's go home," she whispered, kissing him lightly. "The day will finish itself."  
  
***  
  
Black Manor was indeed black that next week. Dazed people spoke in hushed, solemn tones. It wasn't just Harry's death that saddened them, but also the loss of all the Death Eaters that had collapsed. There had always been hope while the dark group had been alive that they would see the error of their ways and leave Voldemort. The connection had been too strong for them and, no matter where the Death Eaters were or what they were doing at that fateful moment, the Dark Mark made certain that every one of them shared their master's fate. There was no hope for redemption. Grief weighed down every conscience.  
  
Ginny was surprised to find a sunny day when she opened the front door and slipped out. A month ago, a week ago even, she would have gloried in the sun's warmth against her head and shoulders. Shivering, she clutched her sweater tighter around her. There wasn't much time. Her father was bound to come looking for her soon. It was now or never.  
  
There hadn't been much that she wanted to keep. She didn't know where she was going or what she would do for shelter and food, but she knew that she had to leave. There was too much sadness here. If she didn't leave, she felt that she would have no other choice but to curl up in Harry's robe and die.  
  
"I can't be strong for you," she recited out loud as she touched the door for one last time. It was what she had been saying inside her head for the past seven days whenever a grieving person passed her. "There is nothing inside of me anymore."  
  
With a new resolve to leave the death and despair behind her, Ginny straightened her shoulders and slipped into the complete mystery of the Muggle world around her. 


	2. Lost and Found Again

Once again, JKR and other varies entities own Harry Potter. I don't make any money off this idea.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you to Jobrill, Thundergal4, catmeat, and Essy for the suberb help with titles! Thank you to my "Focus Group" for reading what I put in front of you and giving back great feedback. To my fellow N/G shippers, this is for you! -Lar  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Lost and Found - Again  
  
"I can't walk this road without you You cannot go it alone We were never meant to make it on our own When the load becomes too heavy And your feet too tired to walk I will carry you" - Rebecca St. James  
  
The quiet of the library washed over Ginny as she sat her bookbag down on the table in her favorite corner. With a sigh of contentment, she got out the materials she needed and went hunting for the books she was currently hunting through. If anyone had asked Ginny, all those years ago in a much simpler time, what she was going to be when she grew up, she never would have thought she would be stuck in a Muggle library doing research for a Muggle firm. But it kept her sane and paid the bills and, most importantly, kept her hidden.  
  
From somewhere nearby, she heard a book drop. The muffled curse implied that it was a rather large book and had fallen on a sensitive spot. Ginny couldn't help the giggle that came out.  
  
"I heard that, you know." The whisper was right behind her. She whirled around and promptly dropped the book she was carrying on the man's feet.  
  
"Bloody hell! That was the same foot I dropped mine on," he grimaced, not keeping his voice down this time. A chorus of "ssssh" came from all over.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Aren't you going to say hello to your old chum? Don't I get a 'Gee, Neville. It's great to see you' just for old times sake?" Neville reached out a rather unsteady hand and stroked her cheek. "You're so pale that I could probably count all your freckles if I had the time."  
  
Ginny flinched and scurried back to the table that she had come to see as her safe haven. "Go away," she muttered. "This isn't the best place to talk."  
  
With sudden movement, Neville's wand was in his hand and he muttered a word while doing a perfect swish and flick. A gossamer bubble surrounded them, shivering slightly as it kept time with the air around it. "Now we can talk without anyone bothering us."  
  
Ginny was momentarily stunned into silence by the magical bubble. It had been a long time since she seen magic and she was impressed by Neville's skill and his ever-correct swish and flick. As it dawned on her just how wrong this situation was, her head snapped up. "Neville! What are you doing? This is a Muggle library. You're going to get in trouble."  
  
He just smiled at her for a minute, taking in her tired eyes and dull hair dragged into a bun. "Who's going to tell the head of Muggle Affairs that he can't do magic in a public place?"  
  
"You? Head of Muggle Affairs? But I thought you wanted to work with plants?" Ginny was trying to cover up her confusion. The last four years had moved slowly for her as she lived entirely in the Muggle world, letting the humdrum existence she eked out hide her from the comings and goings of the wizarding world. Obviously they had been able to reconstruct the Ministry after the destruction of the governing body six years ago. She had personally helped her father destroy files and artifacts. "Never mind. I don't want to know. You're going to have to leave now. There are plenty of things that I need to work on." Taking out a notepad, Ginny clicked her pen and began to write anything that came to mind. She completed her shopping list for the next day and was starting on balancing her checkbook when she realized that Neville hadn't left his chair and the bubble was still in place.  
  
"I need to know that you're okay before I leave, Ginny. There are a lot of people who are worried about you. You've hidden yourself pretty effectively here but you had to know that we would find you eventually. We all miss you."  
  
"Don't tell me that, Neville. I left because it was time for me to put all that behind me. I needed to start a new life. I needed to get away."  
  
"Getting away means a trip to France or Majorca. Not leaving in the middle of the night. Not completely giving up magic so that we can't trace you."  
  
"I made a decision and I stuck to it. I'm happy. Go away."  
  
He slid his hand across the tabletop and pulled the notebook towards him. The flat ink made him smile. "You remember the ink that Harry always liked to write with? It changed colors." He noticed that Ginny turned a shade paler and pressed her lips together but he continued. "He let me borrow it one time so that I could write my mum a letter. Gran would never let me buy anything as frivolous as Ever-Changing Ink."  
  
Neville looked back up at Ginny, a single tear sliding out the corner of his eye. "Gran died last March, my mum six months before that. I watched both of them suffer for a long, long time. Before she slipped away, Mum didn't have a spark of life left in her. Even knowing that we had taken care of Voldemort didn't help her. She finally got too far for us to reach her. I'm not sad that she's gone because it was for the best. Gran, too. It's never easy seeing your loved ones suffering."  
  
Ginny watched, transfixed, as Neville wiped at the tear that was still coursing down his cheek. She noticed the scar by his ear. She had helped patch him up when part of a rock wall had come down on him, knocking him unconscious. He had told Hermione that he wanted to keep the scar as a reminder that he was still alive. Everyone had laughed, ribbing him about wanting to look like Harry. She had laughed harder than all of them when she had told him that his looked like a rain drop instead of a lightening bolt. Seeing the scar again after all this time didn't make her laugh anymore.  
  
"I'm sorry about your family, Neville. Please, can we do this some other time? I don't have much time before the library closes to get this done."  
  
He pulled out a small pendant shaped like an hourglass. "There aren't many arguments you can use that are going to deter me from this, Ginny. Would you like me turn back time one or two hours?"  
  
He looked so much like Harry that, for a minute, all Ginny could do was stare at him. The same dark hair, a tad unruly now after the scuffle with the book. The same piercing eyes - Neville's were a regular blue color instead of Harry's green, but there was the same laughter behind them, the same intensity. If both of them had grown to see true adulthood, they would have looked enough alike to make complete strangers wonder if they shared a bloodline.  
  
"I'm sorry I lived," he whispered, seeing the pain in her eyes and deducing where it was coming from. Her emotions had once been on her sleeve. Now they were a little harder to read after years of hiding. "I'm sorry I agreed to the plan. Please come home. We miss you."  
  
"How can they? I'm sure no one remembers me. I'm not important."  
  
With another swish and flick, a book fell onto the table in front of Neville. She could just make out the title from where she sat.  
  
THE LAST GREAT WAR - A History behind the demise of Voldemort and his followers  
  
By Professor Terry Boot - Second Order of Merlin, Golden Wand of Bravery, Sergeant of Arms of the Wizengamot, Honorary Academician of the Conservatoire Francais des Arts Magie  
  
He opened it to a page and pushed it towards her.  
  
The chapter was entitled: Laughter through Tears - The sacrifice of the Weasley Family and she noticed her name quite a few times in the paragraphs that followed. On the next page, her family waved at her. She stared at herself, standing proud in her Gryffindor school robes and waving with all her might. Stay young! she wanted to scream at the 14 year-old image. Scanning her family, she realized it was the last complete picture that was ever taken, right before her third year when Charlie and Bill had been home from their foreign posts. Percy, his arm around Bill, was smiling broadly as he watched Charlie set his Ministry of Magic badge on fire. Ron seemed to have gotten distinctly red in the face from the unexpected punch to the stomach that both the twins had just given him. Hurriedly, she flipped past her family's picture, not able to look at her parents. It was a reminder of all she had been lacking these past years.  
  
The book fell open to another picture. Harry smiled and blew her a kiss with a cheeky grin. She slammed the book and shoved it angrily back across the table. Tears filled her eyes and she swiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Go away," she hissed through clinched teeth.  
  
"You can scream at me, you know. This is sound-proof." The opalescent bubble swayed as he poked at it.  
  
"If I scream at you, will you go away and leave me in peace?"  
  
"What peace? Have you even started grieving, Ginny? Have you mourned for Percy? Have you mourned for H-"  
  
"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" She stood up; her head held high and started shoving things back in her bag. "If you won't go away, then I will."  
  
Neville rounded the table and turned her roughly towards him. His fingers bit into her upper arm, keeping her from running away from him. "Tell me to go to hell but don't tell me to leave you here. I've just found you. I'm not leaving you again."  
  
"I can't go back." Her whisper was broken as sobs began to wrack her body. "I can't face them. How can you live there day after day, knowing that what we did killed so many people?"  
  
"What we did saved lives! You saved lives, Ginny. You kept people safe. Hundreds of wizards and witches live happy lives in gratitude of what you did. No one blames you for anything. No one expects you to be the Merry Widow."  
  
Ginny sagged, his hands the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground. The ring on her right hand burned with a fire that she only felt in her dreams. "I didn't get to be a widow," she cried. "He promised me a wedding that day. He promised me a future."  
  
"He gave you a future. He gave us all a future."  
  
"You don't understand," she muttered bitterly.  
  
"Ginny, look at me!" he commanded, shaking her slightly. "I lost members of my family to that fight. I found out right before Gran died that my mother had been pregnant when she was tortured and lost the baby. I understand better then most. I don't have a real home to go back to because there is no one there." Neville pulled her into his chest, wrapping his lean arms around her delicate frame. "Harry's dead but you're alive. Don't regret his sacrifice."  
  
She cried then. Sobs that she never cried when those around her had been grieving came pouring out of her with a vengeance that only time can build up and only time can help ease. She cried for the children that they had been, the childhood they had left behind on the battlefield. Tears cleansed her soul as she remembered the faces of the friends who had died friends who had lived. For the first time in four years, Ginny yearned to feel her robes billowing behind her as she soared through the air on her broom, the feel of her wand in her hand as she performed simple spells. She remembered that it was buried in her back closet under a pile of old clothes in a box of keepsakes.  
  
Neville could feel every tear she cried and it soothed and scalded his heart at the same time. Let it all out. Make room in your heart for me, he wanted to say out loud. "Let me take you home," he whispered in her ear.  
  
Pulling from his embrace, she stiffened her spine and sat back down in her chair. A calmer Ginny looked back at him, but a Ginny with many hurdles still to cross. She knew he wasn't talking about her brownstone walkup.  
  
"I have a job to do. I should get back to work."  
  
"I have a job to do, too. I'm not leaving until I accomplish it." He seated himself across from her and conjured up a mug of butterbeer and a thick book that looked an awful lot like Hermione's ragged copy of Hogwarts - A History.  
  
Narrowing her eyes at him, she sighed. "Get rid of the bubble, get me a mug of that stuff and you can stay." Until she had seen his frothy mug, Ginny had forgotten how much she missed the warming brew. Nothing in the Muggle pubs compared to it.  
  
His smile brought back memories of the first time she had met him. No one could look thankful like Neville could, she remembered. Any sign of friendship had been rewarded with his slow smile, his heart glowing through his eyes. With a nod, he did as she wished then sat back to enjoy the afternoon in the presence of the most beautiful girl he had ever lost and then found again.  
  
***  
  
The house was silent as Neville Apparated into the front room. It was his favorite room - the only room he liked in his grandmother's house. He could never think of it as his house. None of the antiques and knickknacks that cluttered so much of the other rooms where evident here. The light from the large picture window was perfect for the plants resting on tiered shelves and the couch was long enough for him to stretch comfortably out to his full length.  
  
"Kippie!" he hollered, rotating his shoulders. The kink that had started to twinge two days ago was yelling quite loudly today. Maybe Hermione could come up with a good potion for him to take.  
  
His small house-elf ran into the room, carrying a steaming cup of dark brew. "Kippie is glad that you are home, Master Neville."  
  
"Neville," he reminded the elf. Hermione had decided that they all needed to start slowly with the house-elves. For the last three months, he had been trying to get Kippie to call him Neville instead of the uncomfortable title that he had held since birth.  
  
"Yes, yes. Kippie is sorry, Master Ne-" the creature began to hit is head on the sofa, not caring that he threw the mug into the air.  
  
"Kippie, stop!" he commanded. This latest tactic of Hermione's was going to be the end of him and his furnishings. It wouldn't be so bad if Kippie knew how to make regular coffee but he had decided that, if he was going to make his master something with such a horrible substance as caffeine, he might as well add some good things. Good things to humans were not the same as good things to elves. Neville drank as much of the new "choffeet" as he could stand without it bothering him but it was lethal to any fabric it came into contact with.  
  
"Kippie is sorry. Kippie will try harder to remember to call Master Neville just Neville. There is so much for Kippie to remember." The house- elf shook his head, the fringe of grey hair hanging past his eyes swaying with the vigorous movement.  
  
"What! What do you have to remember?" Remembering important things had never been a particular gift of Neville's and he had used the house-elf in the past to remind him of events he needed to attend or deadlines that he needed to meet. Was there something important coming up that he had completely forgotten?  
  
Kippie wrung his hands in agitation. "There is so much to remember. So much to remember."  
  
Knowing that Kippie would not tell what he needed to remember until it was too late, Neville gave up and threw himself on the couch. What he really needed was a long walk but he decided to brood in the darkness instead.  
  
"Let Kippie light a lamp." The house-elf jumped up and moved to the nearest table. Neville sighed. He was going to have to talk to Kippie about his infernal straightening and cleaning all the time. It was irritating. It reminded him of the down side of living all those years with his domineering grandmother.  
  
"Leave it, Kippie."  
  
"But Master -"  
  
"Leave it!" He lowered his voice as the tiny creature jumped. "It's fine, Kippie. I'm going to sit here in the darkness for a couple of hours. Why don't you come back in a couple hours? By then, I'll be good and depressed and you can cheer me up by telling me how my Gran has been giving you orders from her portrait in the hall again."  
  
"Good plan, Master Neville. Kippie will go think of all the orders the Mistress-in-the-Picture-Frame has been giving and pick out the best to cheer you up." He scurried out the door, eager to be of service.  
  
At long last, Neville had completed his mission. He had searched high and low in the past four years, now almost five, for the elusive Miss Virginia Weasley. He had followed every lead, every whisper, every hint of a bright vivacious redhead with a stunning smile and beautiful freckles. The dull, lustrous hair and pale, pinched face were not what he had been looking for. He wasn't happy with what he had seen today.  
  
He had not been in love with her during school or even the years after. She had been the best friend he had ever had at Hogwarts; no one could make him laugh like Ginny could. She had been in love with the other person he called a friend and that relationship had been just as precious. In one single event, he had lost both of those friends. One was gone forever. One was waiting to be rescued. With any luck, he wouldn't lose this one again. 


	3. Simplest Route Home

Chapter 3  
  
Simplest Route Home The one reason why You have to stop When you reach the top - is: The next step is the sky. - John Ciardi  
  
"Neville, you've been following me around for three weeks. It's not going to get any more exciting then this."  
  
"I don't know about that. I've read more then I have in years. Hermione has kept me well-stocked with some interesting books."  
  
It was on the tip of tongue to ask for more information about her friend, but she decided against it, biting her tongue to keep the words in.  
  
Neville smiled at her. "So, are you going to remember lunch today on your own or do I need to remind you?" He slouched down in his chair, slinging his arm over the back of the chair next to him. It wasn't as comfortable as his office chair but the view was better.  
  
"Um, if you're hungry," she said distractedly, "I think I have a chocolate bar in my bag."  
  
"Not anymore you don't." He smiled as she looked at him in confusion. "I ate that for breakfast."  
  
"Why don't you go get something from the takeaway on the corner."  
  
"Why don't you let me take you home and I'll leave you alone?"  
  
It was a familiar answer. He found a way to insert it into every conversation they had in the last week. She smiled at him distractedly and flipped another page in the large tome in front of her.  
  
"Why don't you use magic anymore?"  
  
This was a new tactic and Ginny stopped to consider the question. With a sigh, she looked up at him. "I gave up on magic because it gave up on me." Her answer was simple but the pain in her eyes was not.  
  
"Did the magic give up on you or did Harry?"  
  
"I don't want to cry again," she muttered as she shoved away from the table. It was pretty certain no one would bother her pile of books so she left everything where it was and walked away.  
  
***  
  
Ginny walked aimlessly through the park. The sunshine offered heat on her shoulders but not the warmth she had craved for years. Did the magic give up on you or did Harry? Did the magic give up on you? OR. DID. HARRY. HARRY. HARRY. I miss you, Harry. I miss you everyday. You told me you were going to ask me a question. I was going to say yes. YES. YES. YES. Did you give up on me? On us? Have I been bitter all these years because I thought you gave up on me? I have, haven't I? I'm sorry.  
  
She knew Neville stood behind her and turned around to face him. She needed to get this new bit of information off her chest. He wouldn't think poorly of her for being honest. "Ask me that questions again, Neville."  
  
He scanned her face, knowing the question she wanted him to ask but choosing another one instead. "Will you let me take you home?"  
  
Without thinking, the answer the question she thought he was going to ask on the tip of her tongue, she answered quickly, "Yes."  
  
In an instant, Neville crushed her in a hug and walked her to the curb. Before she knew what was happening, he had his right hand up and the Knight Bus was crashing to a stop in front of them.  
  
"The Burrow, Stan, and there's 10 galleons for both of you if you get is there in less then 5 minutes."  
  
"Yes, sir, Mr. Longbottom, sir. Did I ever tell you about the time Harry Potter told me an' Ern that you was him? I mean, he was you?" He continued his story for the benefit of Ernie even as Neville drug Ginny to the back of the bus and threw her into an overstuffed chair.  
  
"I don't know about this, Neville. This wasn't what, I mean, I was going to tell you I thought that H-"  
  
This time he cut her off from saying the name. His hand over her mouth stopped her from talking but, with a wicked glint that hadn't been in her eyes for some time, Ginny stuck out her tongue and licked his hand.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he yelped, taking back his hand as if she was a fire- breathing dragon who got to close. It was too comical not to laugh. Ginny couldn't stop once she started but was forced to stop suddenly when the bus came to an abrupt halt, throwing them both up the aisle.  
  
"The Burrows, sir," Stan announced proudly, as if he was the director of a tour through this particular part of the country.  
  
Throwing the well-earned money at the men, Neville grabbed Ginny and dragged her off the bus towards the Weasley parents who waited on the front step of the same house Ginny had grown up in.  
  
"Welcome home," he whispered in her ear, tormenting himself with the scent of her hair.  
  
"How did they know we would be here today?" she asked, staring at Neville when it became too painful to look at her parents.  
  
"Whenever your father is home, he does nothing but stare at the clock, waiting for your picture to move towards HOME."  
  
With a sob she could no longer contain, Ginny collapsed on the grass. She held out her arms and her mother and father were there. Mrs. Weasley sank beside her and held her like a baby, crooning, "Baby girl, baby girl" over and over again. Mr. Weasley encompassed both of them with his arms, crying silent tears while smoothing Ginny's hair.  
  
The reunion lasted a couple of minutes until Molly looked up at her husband. "Go get the others," she instructed. In a daze, Ginny followed them into the house where Mr. Weasley had his head in the fireplace, yelling out directions and saying excitedly, "Come home. She's come back" at each stop. In seconds, there were popping sounds all over the front room as her brothers Apparated one after another. Children began flying out of the fireplace, scrambling over each other to get to their grandparents.  
  
When did we get so old? she thought numbly as she noticed strikes of grey highlighting the red-hair of each of the Weasley boys. Fred and George spent the first five minutes trying to figure out how to hug her and set off Fizzy Whizbees at the same time. Ron kept slapping her on the back, not able to talk yet.  
  
Mercifully, Hermione rescued her from the boys. "Oh, Gin. It's good to see you." The two girls embraced but Hermione held on a couple seconds longer when Ginny tried to break away. Hermione held onto her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. After a lifetime, she smiled. "You need to eat better but there is less pain in your eyes then I thought I'd find." With a kiss on Ginny's cheek, she hurried to the kitchen to help with the meal.  
  
Bill and Charlie swept her up next. They both talked non-stop about their respective spouses, children and careers. There were no odd silences and Ginny felt she couldn't have talked if she had wanted to.  
  
"Dinner!" Molly yelled at the top of her lungs over the roar of the crowd. Instantly, everyone stopped what they were doing and scrambled for the tables set up outside.  
  
"Shall we let them get the good seats before we try?" Neville asked her as he took her hand. She hadn't moved with the others and the shock still hadn't worn off of her pale face. "Ginny? Are you going to be okay?"  
  
She shook her head, covering her face with her shaking hands. "What have you done to me? These people are never going to let me leave."  
  
"For your information, Ginny, those people are your family. They wouldn't have let you leave in the first place if they had known what you were going to do when you left Black Manor. I haven't seen your father smile this much since Grant was born. Actually, the only time he smiles anymore is when the grandkids are here. You'd never know him if you saw him at work. He's changed since you left."  
  
"Since the war," she said softly. Her hands dropped to her side as she felt the same emotions well up inside her again after all these years.  
  
"No, since you left, Ginny. A few battles didn't put the creak in his back or the shaking in his hands. Having his daughter leave him without a look behind her did that."  
  
"Low blow! I didn't make my father old." Ginny was shaking with fury but Neville wasn't in the mood to let her get off lightly. She had agreed to come home and she needed to see what she had missed, good and bad. He felt some sense of unease that he was being the devils-advocate here but his happiness that she was finally showing emotion at all made it better.  
  
"Are you sure? Were you here? Don't make excuses for what you did, Ginny. You're too strong of a person to make excuses. Your family has changed."  
  
"Mother seems the same. She hasn't changed," she stated with only a small whine.  
  
"The woman was in St. Mungo's for the first four months after you left. The only thing that saved her was helping with Ron's convalescence."  
  
"What?" This bit of news didn't sound good.  
  
"Did you notice Ron's limp? No, probably not. He's gotten pretty good with the false leg. The wound from the wand the Death Eater drove into his leg festered on the inside. The wand was made of a poisoned wood and when Hermione took it out, she left a splinter in without realizing. They had to take the leg halfway between his hip and knee after months of agony and fierce pain. He was in a bad way for a long time. Between Hermione and Molly, they saw him through it. I think he blames himself more for Harry's death then you do. He had no will to live after he lost both his best friend and his little sister."  
  
"STOP!" Ginny screamed, putting her hands over her ears.  
  
"Neville!" Hermione scolded from the doorway. "Let her be. She doesn't need the history all at once. What's done is done."  
  
"She needs to know why, though. Just like you need to know why she left."  
  
"We don't need to know anything. It's enough that she's here now. Come on, it's time for dinner. I think the twins are eager to show off their new Exploding Ice Cubes."  
  
Still shaking, Ginny let Hermione lead her to the place reserved for her at the table. Neville was across from her but it was a shock to be seated beside a redheaded urchin on either side. They both stared at her with more amusement then trepidation while eating but got braver as the meal came to a close.  
  
"Hi, I'm Fred Junior" the urchin on the right said to her. He looked and sounded just like his father. Guessing quickly at his age, Ginny guessed him to be four.  
  
"Do they call you Fred Junior? Seems like a mouthful?"  
  
"Sure. That way it takes longer for them to yell at me."  
  
The boy on the other side was tugging on her arm. If she had to guess, she would have thought he was Fred Junior's twin.  
  
"I'm going to have a birthday," he whispered.  
  
"That's nice. How old will you be?" He held up four fingers with the shaky but practiced expertise of someone who was very happy to be older.  
  
"That's Thomas. He's my cousin."  
  
Annabelle, George's wife leaned over Thomas. "He's shy around people he doesn't know very well but he told us he wanted to sit next to you because you had pretty hair like Nana." She smiled into Ginny's shiny eyes. "I'm glad you came back. The boys know all about you. You should hear the stories Fred and George tell them about you."  
  
"About me?" She had become a legend without even realizing it was possible.  
  
"Sure," Fred Junior told her. "I like the stories about you winning the Quidditch Cup. Uncle Ron says he was really the one to win it but Aunt Hermione told us the real story." Ginny looked around the table in confusion. All the adults had quit talking to watch the new aunt.  
  
"What other stories have they told?" she quizzed her nephews.  
  
"About how you and Uncle Harry killed the big snake," chimed in a small boy directly across the table from Thomas.  
  
No one dared draw a breath. Ginny's eyes had grown round and glassy but none of the little boys saw her pain at the memory of Harry rescuing her from the Basalisk and Tom Riddle.  
  
"I like stories about Quidditch," chimed in Fred Junior again.  
  
Thomas, in an uncharacteristic show of force for one so shy, stuck out his tongue at his older cousin. "You already told that one. She wants to know the rest, too."  
  
"But I like the Quidditch stories," he whined, sticking out his lower lip. It made everyone laugh to see the tiny boy looking so much like his father and uncle. Both boys had done their share of pouting when they were younger.  
  
"Fred Junior, why don't you pick another story to tell your Aunt Ginny?" his mother interjected before the situation got out of hand.  
  
It took a couple of stuttering starts for him to pick another story that didn't have anything to do with Quidditch but he relished in the telling. "One time you took Uncle Neville to a dance and he said you were as pretty as a fairy. He liked that you danced with him all night long."  
  
The older family members ducked their heads as Neville tried to hide under the table. His face was redder than the raspberry jam sitting in front of him. He could only remember telling the boys that story once. They had been having a bad day and all of them had been sent to separate chairs in the front room until they promised to settle down. He had offered to tell them a 'quiet' story and they had sat through the whole telling of the Yule Ball without a single word. That they didn't fall asleep at any point had surprised everyone.  
  
"That's a good one but I like how Aunt Ginny beat off twelve Death Eaters with only her wand and broomstick," chimed in another boy, this one the only fair-haired boy of the bunch. He stood up on the chair vacated by Fred Junior and pretended to wave around a wand while chanting, "Die evil scumbags!"  
  
Everyone tried to get to him first to stop the little boy's wild antics but Ginny's laughter stopped all of them. She reached out and tickled him until he squealed. "Who made up that one?" she asked, shaking her head at Ron as he lifted his hand. "And how many are you fending off in this attack?"  
  
"Thirty-two!" cried all the little boys in unison. It was obviously a fun story for them to act out.  
  
"Aunt Ginny?" A little girl stood behind her and pushed her hand into the cleft of Ginny's bent arm. Turning to get a better look, Ginny almost fell off her chair. The red hair was a little longer but the curl gave her away. She caught Neville's eye from her position and mouthed, "Percy's little girl?"  
  
He nodded and mouthed back, "Long story."  
  
The little girl was attempting to pull her down so Ginny accommodated her. "Nana told me you were Head Girl when you were at school."  
  
"Why, yes," she stammered. "I was Head Girl." Her school days were a complete fog, pushed in the far recesses of her mind, but she could still remember how happy she had been when she had received one of the greatest honours Hogwarts had to bestow.  
  
"I want to be Head Girl, too. Aunt Hermione was Head Girl and she says to study hard and stay out of trouble."  
  
"Why do you want to be Head Girl?" Ginny asked, afraid of seeing the need for power in yet another Weasley offspring, even one so young.  
  
"So I can keep Fred Junior from getting into too much trouble," the little girl explained, reaching over to ruffle her cousin's close-cropped hair.  
  
He ducked her hand and blushed. "Geroff, Katherine. I told you to quit doing that." It was a good feeling to watch the interaction of the near- siblings, to know they were all so close to one another.  
  
"Aunt Ginny! Aunt Ginny!" hollered the boy from across the table again.  
  
"Hush, James. You're going to wake up Grant."  
  
Turning slowly back to the table, Ginny surveyed the little boy again. He looked like a Weasley but his hair was sable and curlier than the other cousin's hair. Her eyes lifted to the man beside the boy. Ron returned her gaze with tenderness. "James?" she whispered.  
  
"We didn't think you'd mind much," he answered, hugging the little boy. "Dumbledore is his godfather and it was his idea."  
  
"No, I don't mind."  
  
Ron leaned down and whispered in the boy's ear. He nodded and ran around the table, launching himself past the other children and into her arms.  
  
"Daddy says if I'm very quiet, I can ask my question." She nodded and he continued. "Do you live with Uncle Harry? I want to meet him."  
  
Hugging the little boy close, she buried her face in his hair. His gaze was so wistful and full of hope. "No, sweetums. I don't live with Uncle Harry. I'm sure he would want to meet you, too." Afraid she was going to begin sobbing again, she kissed the little boy on the forehead and set him down. "I have to, uh, I."  
  
Immediately, parents called their children away from their aunt, making room for her to leave her place at the table. Molly moved to follow her, but Arthur stopped her with a hand on her arm and a shake of her head. The whole family looked to Neville and he excused himself from the table. This was yet another battle for him to win for the group of people he now considered as close to a family as he had ever experienced. With any luck, he wouldn't let them down.  
  
"Just another dinner with the Weasley's. At least we didn't think to show her the dungeon we added to the house. That would have really set her off." George quipped, ducking the blow his wife tried to deliver to his ears. Everyone burst out laughing uneasily and began to clean up the dinner table, content for the moment that Ginny was home. 


	4. Moments of Rapture, Moments of Pain

Disclaimer: JKR and Scholastic Books are making all the money off Harry Potter and his friends. I don't make any money from this. It's just for fun.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Moments of Rapture, Moments of Pain "What brings joy to the heart is not so much the friend's gift as the friend's love." - St. Alfred of Rievaulx  
  
"Tell me about Katherine, Neville. Is she really Percy's daughter?"  
  
Neville sat beside the redhead huddled beside the tree by the millpond. It had been easy to guess she would try to hide from the view of the house without being too far away. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could into the middle. A tiny water sprite rose from the ripples and began to screech at him before going beneath again when the ripples ceased.  
  
"Penelope followed Percy to the Ministry of Magic, working as an assistant to an assistant to someone who no one remembers anymore. She and Percy had a 'fling', as your mum likes to call it, and Katherine was born. When Percy went." he paused, the proper wording not coming to him as he wrinkled his nose in thought, "bad, Penelope ran to her cousin in the country. After the war, she came out from hiding and came to your parents. She couldn't find a job that would support the two of them so they live here and Molly takes care of Katherine while Penelope waits tables. It's not glamorous and I've offered to help her find a better job many times but she's got her pride. Knowing that Percy hurt so many, she likes to keep a low profile. We're hoping his legacy doesn't haunt Katherine when she goes to school in a few years." He sighed and picked up another rock but thought better of throwing it into the water. "Kids can be cruel."  
  
Without thinking, Ginny put her arms around Neville's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Were they so very awful to you?"  
  
He sighed again but it was happier. "No, not really. I was clumsy and awkward and forever doing the wrong thing. Luckily, I found a group of friends that didn't care so much that I wasn't handsome or popular or gifted. Hermione saved me more times then I can count in Potions."  
  
"She saved me a couple times, too. As much as I miss Snape, the new Potions master must be a vast improvement. Why are you laughing?"  
  
"I don't know if improvement is the right word. Professor Unruh is much more familiar with hygiene but I think the poor students work harder for a good word from him then we ever did from Snape."  
  
"Oh, the poor dears. Will Hogwarts ever have a loveable Potions master?"  
  
"I don't think it's possible. Dumbledore told me once that most wizards who are masters in that area have a tendency to be, well, grumpy."  
  
The memories that popped up when she thought of Snape's grumpiness were painless and it made her smile until she remembered the one question she had been wanting to ask Neville.  
  
"I don't want to ruin this beautiful day but will you answer one question for me? How were you able to kill Voldemort? The prophecy was about Harry and if Voldemort killed him, then he should have won. I don't understand, I guess.." She pulled away slightly to watch his face as he talked.  
  
"I've thought about that same question for years. I haunted me for months after so I went to Dumbledore. I had forgotten something important." He wasn't looking her in the eye now, choosing instead to stare blindly at the water. "A week before the final fight, I broke my wand. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, thinking I could make do. That's why the wall fell on me. I couldn't stop it. Harry found out and told me to take his wand until I found another one."  
  
"I never saw him without one, though. What was he using?"  
  
"Moody had a few extras in his wooden chest. Instead of having me take it, Moody insisted Harry use it. I thought it was odd at the time but that had been the plan all along. Dumbledore and Moody knew it would come down to a fight between Harry and Voldemort. If Voldemort was able to strike first then Harry wouldn't have a chance to make the kill. There was the tiniest of chances the prophecy was about me as well as Harry. Dumbledore decided it was enough of a chance to take."  
  
"So Dumbledore knew Harry was going to be a sacrifice?"  
  
"Yes. But he's not the only one who was aware of the risks. Harry knew, too."  
  
"He never expected to come out of the battle alive." Surprisingly, Ginny didn't feel the horror she felt this revelation deserved. A calming peace flooded her soul. That's why you wouldn't let me wear the ring on my left hand. You knew we would never have a chance to be together but you still wanted to leave me with a piece of you. I'm not a widow. Not really. I would have thought this kind of information would make me feel bad but I don't. I feel different. I feel free. I miss you, Harry. I love you but . . . I need to be free of this weight for a while.  
  
They were both lost in thought for the few minutes it took the sun to begin to sink on the horizon. Neville put his arm around her waist and they leaned against each other, both enjoying the beautiful colours in the sky.  
  
"Make it all okay, Neville. Make it better," she whispered, pillowing her head in the hollow of his neck.  
  
Shivering at her touch, Neville lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. "Done." At that moment, the sun's rays brightened in one last effort to continue the day.  
  
For the first time in four years, Ginny felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Even as she smiled at the heat from the outside, she began to notice pricks of heat radiating on the inside. Every place she was touching Neville began to warm up and a new awareness of him filled her. Under her cheek, she could feel his heart beat. It was as fast as her own galloping beat.  
  
"I don't know if I can do this quickly."  
  
He jumped, as if he had received a shock, but asked lightly, "Can't do what quickly?" Please, oh please, don't ask me to stop touching you because I don't think I can. Not now. Not after you've finally let me get this close.  
  
"You. Me. This."  
  
"Is it too soon to kiss you?"  
  
A moment passed before she nodded her head.  
  
"Oh."  
  
She looked up at his downcast face and replayed the last couple seconds of conversation. "No, I mean, yes. It's fine. Kiss me, please." Her face reddened yet again.  
  
He picked up her hand resting on his knee, and, turning the palm over, placed a small kiss in the middle. With a speed he hoped was slow enough to keep her from spooking, he curled the hand up into a fist and sat it back down.  
  
"What was that?" she asked indignantly, raising her hand up to look at it with some confusion.  
  
Keeping his voice bland, he answered, "A kiss. Is that not what you wanted?"  
  
"No, I prefer my kisses on lips. Like this." Without actually thinking about what she was doing, Ginny leaned up and kissed Neville deeply.  
  
Pulling back from the intensity of the kiss, Neville whistled. "You're right. That is definitely better than my version of a kiss."  
  
"It had some merits," she admitted coyly.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"The fact that I can't feel my hand enough to uncurl it is enough proof for me." She held up her hand, still clutched in a fist.  
  
"Well, let me make that better." Uncurling each finger, he kissed the tip until the hand opened again. "Does that work for you."  
  
"I still can't feel my hand."  
  
"Sorry," he breathed, licking his lips as he tried to get feeling make in that area. "Guess I'm better at this then I thought I was."  
  
"I still need the practice. Give me another shot."  
  
"Before you do, can I ask one favour of you?"  
  
"Am I going to like this favour?"  
  
Neville smiled at her as he took a moment to rethink his idea. It had seemed like a good idea when he first thought of it but now he wasn't so sure. There was a tiny part of his heart that needed this to happen. A tiny part still remembering the wounded boy with two left feet and poor wand skills. "I just want you to say mine name before you kiss me." He held his breath waiting for her reply, hoping she didn't see his real reason for this request.  
  
"Neville. How did that sound?"  
  
He let out the breath and smiled again. "Wonderful. Everything you say is wonderful."  
  
Ginny smiled her old, cheeky grin at him. "You're full of it, you know that? But seriously, Neville," she emphasised the name, "what is this about? Scared that I've forgotten who you are among all these Weasley's?"  
  
"It's not that. I just got worried. All of a sudden, you're paying attention to me."  
  
"Do you not like me paying attention to you?" Ginny questioned him. She slid a finger down his cheek but straightened and pulled away as she saw his expression. "Don't you dare think that."  
  
"I can't help it. It's haunted me for years."  
  
"What? That I would mistake you for my murdered boyfriend? For your information, you look nothing like him. Not really. You have dark hair. So do a lot of people. I don't walk the streets of London thinking every ebony-haired guy is Harry coming back for me." Ginny surged to her feet. "You want me to come to grips with what went on in the past. When you come to grips with the present, let me know."  
  
She would have given anything to be able to Apparate out of the area but she was forced to stomp off in a huff. Sometimes it felt good to be a woman, to be able to throw a fit and get good and mad. This surge of feminine power drove her back into the house without a second thought that she might not belong there anymore.  
  
"Ginny? Where's Neville?" Hermione stepped from the front room, balancing the familiar tea service on the worn silver platter.  
  
"Probably hiding his head in the sand. Is there something I can help you with, 'Mione?"  
  
The older woman smiled at the nickname. "I haven't heard that name in years. Most of the time, it's Mum or Dr. H. Sometimes Ron calls me Honey but that's only when he wants, uh, well," Hermione trailed off, her face flushed as she realized once again that she was talking to her husband's sister. "Sorry, Ginny. Too much information. Why don't you go into the front room and I'll take this in to be washed up."  
  
Reluctantly, Ginny turned into the room and faced her family once again. The children had all been scattered to their respective play areas and the adults were enjoying each other's company. To their credit, no one looked up as she entered the room and the conversations all kept flowing. She gratefully took the empty seat on the coach next to Ron. Hermione had obviously just vacated it but Ginny needed to be close to someone. This grand experiment of Neville's had only made her realize she did indeed miss her family.  
  
Taking her hand and stroking it gently, Ron kept talking to Fred about the newest professor at Hogwarts. It seemed to be a popular conversation. Ginny could hear that the other discussions were on the same topic. No one seemed to like the wizard much, even her father. He had once been the kind of person who would give anyone one chance.  
  
Not wanting to get involved in the conversations but happy to be around her family, Ginny soon dozed with her head against the back of the couch. I should go home soon. It's going to be late before I get back as it is.  
  
She came back to consciousness just in time to hear her mother whisper, "Don't bother her, Arthur. It's too late to try to get her back to London now. Cover her with the afghan and we'll let her sleep."  
  
"Mummy?" she breathed, wanting to hug her mother and breathe in the scent that was original to her.  
  
"Sleep, little one. Mummy and Daddy will be here tomorrow when you wake up."  
  
"Don't let me leave before I say goodbye to the boys." She fell back asleep before she finished the sentence and never knew her mother only heard the first part of what she said.  
  
"No, sweetest. Mummy won't let you leave ever again."  
  
***  
  
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Neville threw every pillow off the couch against the far wall. He had since run Kippie out of the room in terror, as nothing he could do would calm his agitated master. "You had to get scared, didn't you? You had to make her think you didn't trust her feelings when it was your own you couldn't handle. Idiot! Worthless coward! Unilaterally brainless fop!"  
  
"Neville Longbottom! Come out into this hallway right this minute!"  
  
He had awakened his Grandmother in the hallway and there would be a steep price to pay. Reluctantly, he picked his way through the piles of debris and strode determinedly down to the portrait.  
  
"Why are you screaming at the top of your lungs at this time of the night? No, don't look at your feet. Hold your head up, boy. You're a Longbottom. We don't hang our head." The painting portrayed a regal grey-haired matriarch dressed in her signature ugly green gown, sitting on the same tall-backed chair that had since been placed under the picture. Neville particularly despised this piece of furniture after he had spent most of his fifteenth summer sitting very upright and uncomfortable in it. It was his very unjust punishment for setting his bedroom curtains on fire. "Kippie tells me you've spent most of the last month in London. I demand an accounting of your time."  
  
"It was for business, Gran. Nothing illegal or unseemly."  
  
"Of course it's not illegal. No Longbottom has ever been accused of doing anything illegal."  
  
She continued on her tirade as Neville studied her. He could see where his weak chin and rather pronounced front teeth came from. Luckily for him, his mother had given him her sterling blue eyes and dark hair.  
  
Without realizing he was speaking, he blurted out, "I'm in love with Ginny Weasley. I plan on bringing her to live in this house. I hope you don't yell at her like this."  
  
"Of all the impertinence! A Longbottom never has to raise their voice to make a point," she replied rather loudly. Two red spots of anger now graced her round cheeks but Neville didn't seem to care. Saying his feelings out loud and invigorated him in a strange way to stand up to his relatives.  
  
Surrounded on all sides by Longbottoms from generations back, Neville interrupted his grandmother again, "No, Gran. Sometimes they do raise their voice. Sometimes they do say silly things. Sometimes they do fall in love. I have been in love with Ginny for the last four years. Maybe even longer. If I can somehow make up for this last blunder of mine and convince her I'm not such a big ninny, I intend to ask her to marry me someday."  
  
The portraits were coming alive with activity now. On the opposite wall, Great-Great-Uncle Xavier blew his nose and wiped at his streaming eyes with a rather large handkerchief while Gertrude, a spinster from the early Seventeenth Century hanging above the library door since this house had been completed, danced a rather naughty little jig. There were loud hoots and hollers from a rowdy group of Longbottom horsemen at one end of the hall while a group of young ladies depicted in an orchard were heard to be discussing just what the bride should wear on the wedding day - and night.  
  
"That is quite enough from all of you," the matriarch stormed, her voice several octaves above her normal speaking voice. "No grandson of mine would dare think of bringing a girl here to the Longbottom ancestral home without first bringing her here for my approval." Several other portraits applauded.  
  
Neville stood very straight and stared for several seconds at the large painting, his gaze as haughty as his grandmother's. "Let me make one thing painfully clear to all of you. I am the only one here in the hallway not restricted to a canvas and four slats of wood. This is my house now and I am the master of the Longbottom estate. I have the power to take any portrait down I wish and don't think I will at any moment be swayed from my purpose. From this moment on, I refuse to live in one room of this house. Once upon a time there was love and laughter here and I wish it to be so again. You will behave or you will be moved."  
  
Not waiting for any reactions, he walked deliberately into the nearest room and flung open the heavy drapery. This gesture would have made a much more dramatic statement if there had been any daylight to stream through the uncovered glass. What little moonlight there was fell on the tall stacks of musty books and ugly chairs. Falling into the nearest rickety antique, Neville put his head in his hands. He was suddenly very tired. This newest development was going to take some thought but the moonlight was clouding his thoughts with all the images of what he would rather be doing right now under the stars with a certain titan-haired vixen. 


	5. A Bump in the Road of Happiness

Still don't own any of these characters and I didn't think them up. My luck isn't that good.  
  
Authors Note: There are many varying opinions on Ginny's real name. After reading the post on FA, I chose the one I like the best. There is nothing that I know of from JKR on this topic. Let me know if you of anything!  
  
Chapter 5  
  
A Bump in the Road of Happiness  
  
"People take different roads seeking fulfilment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr.  
  
Bill and Ron glared at each other across the sand box their sons had long since vacated. It amused the Weasley family very much to see the two brothers go at it once again but it was odd to watch the siblings take opposite sides of how they usually fought.  
  
"She needs to stay here. What's left for her in London? We're her family. That's all that should be important," Bill raged. The family peacekeeper was so full of his own self-righteous indignation that Ginny would even think about leaving now when she had returned to the fold, he failed to realize he was constantly nitpicking at the same argument.  
  
Ron, on the other hand, was in complete agreement with his little sister. "She knows her way back, Bill. She's a big girl. Let her go back to London. She's got commitments."  
  
"What if something happens to her? What if she's mugged?" No one would ever forget Bill had been mugged on his last trip into London. He proceeded to tell the story anytime the city was mentioned. The poor vagrant had been scared away when the elder Weasley had pulled out his wand and hit him on the head, shouting the first thing that had come to mind. Luckily, the pink flowers sprouting from the man's ears had died and dropped out before he could prove anything had happened.  
  
"Obviously she's smarter than you if it hasn't happened to her in the last four years. She's been smart enough to get completely lost among the Muggles without them ever knowing she wasn't one of them. Give her some credit. She's smart enough to know we aren't going to let her stay in London long." He glanced over at his sister to see if his message had registered. The best confirmation he could get that she had heard him was the angry swish of her hair as she brushed it off her shoulder.  
  
Ginny had been trying her best to ignore not only her brothers' heated argument, but the rest of the clan gathered behind the house as well. She had started the current argument when Katherine had asked if she could visit her in London someday and she had agreed. Bill's yelp of surprise had scared most of the children back into the house and Ron's gruff reply had sent the others scurrying into their parent's arms.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere right now so just calm down, you two. Don't you tell the children to stop arguing when they're at each other's throats like this? You two should know better. Honestly, father. You would think to look at you that you're enjoying this far too much."  
  
"Dinna fash yourself," Fred quipped in his best Scottish accent, patting his sister's arm affectionately. "The bonnie lads are a wee put out."  
  
"Shut it, Gred!" she shouted. "It wasn't funny when we were kids and it's not funny now. Besides, you sound like a blasted sheep when you try that accent."  
  
"Don't use the bloody language around the bloody children," Bill swore. Fleur tried to cuff his ears and he swept her up into his arms where they proceeded to yell at each other in French until, at last, they kissed soundly and he set her back on her own two feet. Ginny tried her best not to join in the laughter but found she couldn't hold back.  
  
"'Mione, come take my side in the argument," yelled Ron to his wife, who had just arrived back from a sudden call to a patient.  
  
"Love to. I'm assuming we're still arguing about Charlie's horrible choice in evening attire."  
  
"Hey, no fair. I happen to love this shirt. SaraBeth got it for me on her last outing to Jamaica. I think it looks-"  
  
"Girly?" Fred interrupted.  
  
"Revolting?" quipped George at the same time. The twins grinned at each other, still able to crack each other up when the moment arose.  
  
"Katherine, come tell your Uncle Charlie what you think of his shirt," Ron called out even as he kissed his wife soundly on the lips. Ginny couldn't help but get a little nauseous at the excessive affection her brother showed her best friend at times. Their relationship, although not new even to Ginny, was going to take her some time getting used to. Married life was definitely good for Ron, bringing out the thoughtful, caring individual that Molly had always despaired would ever show up.  
  
His little niece immediately came running from her play area in the middle of an overgrown rose bush, her hair falling out of the nice braid Hermione had helped her put in this morning. "You look like a flower garden!"  
  
"For that statement, little girl, you will have to pay." Uncle and niece wove in and out of the family members perched on chairs and leaning against the porch railing until she finally let herself be caught and submitted to the proper tickle torture.  
  
Ginny couldn't help but smile around at her family. The last two days had been filled with the laughter she had sorely missed in the last four years. There had been the few moments when she had looked around and seen a solitary tear or shuttered expressions of pain. They had probably been able to read the same thing on her face if they had caught her watching James brush his unruly hair out of his eyes or Katherine lecturing her cousins on the proper swish and flick method of waving a wand.  
  
I can't stay here much longer, she thought as the family contemplated a menu for dinner. The adults were talking about taking everyone to Diagon Alley to try the newest restaurant. Shivers ran up Ginny's spine as she realized she might possibly see people she knew from her previous life if they went somewhere as populated as Diagon Alley. I'm not ready for this. Too many people. Too many memories. What do I say when someone asks me where I've been? How will I respond to their looks of pity? I can't do this without you, Neville? She jumped and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her attention lapse.  
  
"Ginny will decide where we have dinner," Fred decided democratically, bringing the debate to a screeching halt as everyone turned their attention on her again. George was winking at her, but she hadn't followed enough of the conversation to know what her response should be to any of them.  
  
Trying to buy some time, she blushed and stammered, "I need to powder my nose," before she ran into the house. Instead of turning down the hallway, she found herself rushing toward the front door. If this didn't work, she could always say she needed some fresh air - from the front yard. Hurrying to the end of the dirt lane, she held up her right arm and waited. She wasn't sure if it this was going to work or not but it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.  
  
Her patience was rewarded almost immediately. The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt. "Where to?" Stan asked as she climbed on board.  
  
"Albatross Estates." She had meant to give her apartment address but found she had no desire to return there just yet. Neville's address came out before she thought.  
  
"Make ya'self at home, doll. Be there in a snap. Not too many other people out tonight." Not half an hour passed before she found herself deposited at the front gates of a rather dejected-looking house. She had no desire to try making her way up the crumbling steps to the sagging front door. Looking around she couldn't see much as the grounds were overflowing with foliage but she could still make out a worn path leading to the back of the house. Still in the same automatic mode she had started this journey on, she started down the path.  
  
If Neville hadn't told her himself that he lived alone, she would have thought there was a full family living inside the house. Shouts of merriment and screams of laughter floated out of a large open French door. Peering inside, she was astounded to see a beautiful sitting room done in shades of green. The furniture and carpets appeared to be brand new, still carrying with them a stiff patina.  
  
The commotion was coming from the door on the opposite wall, leading to a large hallway. Portraits, hanging the entire length, hollered back and forth at each other and at the lone female standing outside another open door.  
  
"Will you all shut it! I can't hear myself think!" the woman howled, pounding her fist on the doorway. "If you don't stop right now, I'll take down all of you and store you in the attic."  
  
"You don't have the balls!" shouted a particularly horrid man, his hands full with a turkey leg and a flagon of ale.  
  
"Just try me, old man." The woman stomped back into the room with a last swish of her incredibly long blonde hair. That gesture seemed strangely familiar. Knowing her luck today, it probably was Lavender. Why was she in Neville's house?  
  
Her question was answered as a small house-elf came waltzing down the hall, calling out greetings to the ancestors in the pictures. "Miss Lavender, Miss Lavender!" he called out. "Master Neville would like to have a word with you in his front room."  
  
"You mean the horrid room with plants? I'll be along as soon as I've completed setting the wallpaper. These old houses make the switch rather stubbornly if they're not dealt with properly."  
  
"Oh! The colour is lovely, Miss Lavender. Master Neville will take excess joy in the lightness of the room. Nothing like what is was. Nothing at all."  
  
"Yes, well, Neville doesn't really care as long as it's different, now does he? Has he been in any of the rooms to see the truly magnificent job I've done? No! Of course not. Just like a man. Doesn't care how it looks unless it's done on time and under budget. Most of them wouldn't care if I decorated the walls with Quidditch posters and exchanged the comfortable furniture for something that reminded them of being in the forest."  
  
The house-elf wasn't listening as he tripped past the room to a large frame. No one was occupying it at this time but he stopped and said, "Tsk- tsk. Madam, if you would but come out to see the beautiful rooms, you wouldn't be so angry with Master Neville."  
  
"It's a waste," shrieked a voice inside the portrait. "Spending perfectly good money on perfectly fine rooms. Why, Grandmother Hegmafost decorated most of the house."  
  
"And it's due for an update," came the answer from down the hall. "I never said you had to leave everything the way I had it, snivelling sod."  
  
"I knew when to respect my elders, you grumpy windbag."  
  
"Ah, you say that now but I doubt you could have said it when you were mistress of this house. All I ever heard was 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, ma'am'. Glad to see you finally got a backbone."  
  
The decorator stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Kippie! I want nothing disturbed while I'm gone. The ottoman still refuses to keep the new fabric on and I don't want batting all over the hallway." There was complete silence until she was gone and than everyone decided to speak at once. As far as Ginny could tell, the overall consensus was split. The people either liked what Neville had decided to do or they thought Neville had messed up once again.  
  
"Blasted young'un. Shoulda' known to leave well enough alone. Everything he touches turns to coal. The house is libel to fall down around us."  
  
"I hope it does!" Ginny had finally had enough. She burst from the room where she had been trying to stay out of sight and proceeded to march up and down the hall. "I hope the house falls down around you all and no one bothers to come rescue you. This is an admirable thing Neville is doing. You've obviously forgotten light is infinitely better for the constitution than musty darkness. Neville obviously wants you to be happy."  
  
A quiet harrumph stopped her tirade. Turning around, she found the portrait was no longer empty. Both women eyed each other before the older one replied, "He's doing none of this for us. The ungrateful wretch has decided he is going to install one of his many hussies here."  
  
"Neville? Neville Longbottom? Hussies? I don't think so."  
  
"How would you know? You might be the hussy. Unattended by a chaperone in my nephew's house. Yes, I think you are a hussy."  
  
"And I think you're a shrew." Both women continued to stare at each other calmly. Kippie wrung his hands as he turned from one to the other, unsure how he was supposed to react to these equal shows of temper.  
  
"Red hair is a sin in most cultures. I believe that is shows a lack of good character."  
  
"I'm surprised you can get enough air into your lungs with your head tipped that far back. Has an insect ever flown into your nose?"  
  
Ginny was vaguely aware of laughter. All around her, people were absorbed in the interchange.  
  
"I don't believe you are hussy after all. I believe you are a woman of low character who has come to play with my nephew's emotions and take his money. I would be able to tell him this if he would come and visit me. As it is, he stays locked away in the front room with his precious plants."  
  
"Why would he want to come visit you, madam, if you do nothing but tell him how horrible he is? Neville is smart enough to keep away from people who refuse to see he is honourable and steadfast."  
  
"I see that he is honourable and steadfast. All Longbottoms are those traits. It is impossible for them to not be honourable and steadfast. How dare you imply otherwise."  
  
Kippie choked unexpectedly as Ginny smiled her trademark grin. "An honourable man would never do anything to bring shame on his family. This house is a shame. The grounds are overgrown with weeds and the front door sags. I can only imagine how musty and damp the tapestries were before they were replaced." She shook one of the new, vibrant wall hangings lining the hallway between the pictures. It depicted a titan-haired maiden reclining on a rock above a stormy sea. It brought tears to her eyes.  
  
Continuing with only slight hitch in her voice, she stated, "Honour is taking care of a family legacy for future generations. Steadfast is seeing the job to completion when those around you are unsupportive and mean- spirited. I can see why others have been so, but not you. Not the infamous Gran I always heard Neville praise to the sky. I would have thought better of you."  
  
"Neville mentioned me?" The elderly lady looked shocked.  
  
"Of course he did. You were the only parent he ever had. He worked very hard to make you proud of him while we were in school together."  
  
"You were in school with my dear boy?"  
  
"A year behind. He was friends with my brother."  
  
Processing the information, the matron answered almost sheepishly, "Then you are a Weasley. I should have guessed from the beautiful hair. You look much like your grandmother and mother. Well, Genevieve, what has taken you so long to come after my grandson?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I may be a portrait, you delightful child, but I know what is going on in the house. Even before I left this mortal coil, I knew Neville was working quite closely with your father and Albus to find you. I despaired that he would work himself to death many times as he searched for you, despaired that he would never be whole if he failed in his assignment."  
  
"He found me. Now he can carry on with his life."  
  
"And whose chin is in the clouds now? Choking on your insufferable pride, no doubt. How can he carry on with his life if his life is somewhere else? Don't think for one moment that he is doing this transformation for me or anyone else in this hallway. This is coming from somewhere deep in the boy's heart none of us have ever belonged."  
  
Ginny hung her head and scuffed her shoe against the stiff carpet fibres. Suddenly, she didn't want to be in this house either. If the last four years had taught her nothing, they are taught her the value of hiding emotions locked inside. Being with her family had made her long to laugh but being here made her yearn to love and be loved. Making her second lightening-quick decision of the day, Ginny nodded her head at the matriarch. "I hope you learn to appreciate his efforts. Neville cannot fail anymore. He is too strong for failure."  
  
"And you don't mind failing?"  
  
"No, I'm very good at it. Thank you." Darting for the open door she had come through, Ginny made it out the French doors before the outcry began again. She had hoped to be well away from the house before they started but she knew she still had a jump on anyone who would come after her.  
  
She had failed to keep track of Kippie, though. He stood just outside the doors, a large frying pan in his hands. "Don't move or I will hit on the head."  
  
Laughing at the utterly absurd fierceness in his small, pinched face, Ginny attempted to run around him. "You can't reach my head. You're too short."  
  
"Not your head. Kippie's head. Kippie will keep you here or he will be forced to bring pain."  
  
Knowing enough about these pureblood's servants to understand he was utterly sincere, she was forced to stop where she was. "Please don't, Kippie. I didn't mean to come here. Please don't tell Neville. He doesn't need to know I was here."  
  
"He already does."  
  
Ginny whipped her head around and stared at the scowling man behind her. "I'm so sorry, Neville. I really didn't mean to come here but I couldn't think of anywhere else I could go. Please don't be angry. I'll leave now."  
  
"I'm not letting you leave so you can just forget that particularly brilliant idea." 


	6. Hear the Words I Mean to Say

Disclaimer: Income from the sale of Harry Potter and his ilk are creating large fortunes. I am not adding to said fortunes or taking away any of the proceeds. I like to think that I add to the universe in some tiny way by writing this tiny part of the fanficdom.  
  
Author's Note: You are all great! Thanks for reading! I read the reviews everyday to keep me motivated. My favorite character is rapidly becoming Gran, whom I resented a little when I first started this story. So spunky! I hope to be as level-headed as she is when I am old! Thanks, SaraJo for being a great beta and keeping me on track. Couldn't do this without you.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Hear the Words I Mean to Say  
  
"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant. If we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." -Anne Bradstreet  
  
Ginny tried to read Neville's face. He looked neither happy nor angry to see her on his property. "I shouldn't have come, Neville. I'm so sorry to have bothered you and, uh, your ancestors."  
  
"Considering that you are the first person to make them shut their yapping mouths in months, I think I should thank you."  
  
"You shouldn't let them talk back to you. Show some backbone, Longbottom." There was a strained silence before Neville hollowly replied, "I don't believe this is any of your concern. Kippie, bring her back into the salon."  
  
There was no need for magic to be able to figure out that she had insulted him. She hadn't expected that Neville's cheeks would go pale instead the ruddy he went when angry or intensely irritated.  
  
Kippie, the ever faithful servant, took Ginny's small hand and began tugging her back inside the French doors. She thought about making a mad dash for the overgrown yard but the strange rustling she heard made her rethink that plan of action. Maybe if she could just bide her time an opportunity would present itself. Going back to London still didn't sound appealing but she was running out of options.  
  
Seating her in a comfortable chair near the cheerful fire he conjured, Kippie instructed her to stay in this room until called for. She listened with a sense of trepidation as he cast a spell to keep the doors from opening to her. What I wouldn't give for a wand right now, she thought furiously.  
  
She jumped at the loud pop to the right of her chair but refused to look up from the fire. There was no one that she wanted to see right now as she tried to capture one of the ideas that was running through her head.  
  
"It's been a long time, Ginny. I'm glad you finally decided to come home." This visitor was the last person she wanted to see right now.  
  
"I have the distinct feeling that none of this was my decision. Even now, I've been locked in this room by that little house-elf with the strange ears."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Kippie may be an exceptional elf when it comes to keeping Neville fed but he's never been able to do much more magic than that. No, my dear, you've been able to leave this entire time."  
  
"But he said -" her voice trailed off as she stared at her former headmaster. "I just want to go home."  
  
"You were home and then you left. Forgive me but it seems foolish to want to back again so soon."  
  
"I was at my parent's house. This is a realm I no longer belong in."  
  
"Home is where the heart is."  
  
"I haven't got a heart anymore." It was an immediate answer to his pat one- liner, one Ginny had been telling herself the entire time she was away. She knew her heart was once more in its place because it ached; squeezing out tears at very inopportune times - like now. "I didn't mean that but I don't think it matters much now. Things haven't gone well."  
  
"And you were planning on growing up when?"  
  
"Excuse me? Are you telling me that I haven't been a grownup for the last four years? And the two years before that when I helped fight a war? Where were you for that? We never saw you the last six months of the fighting. Not even a message that we were doing a good job. Harry dies and you show up to carry him off. How nice for you. You couldn't find the time for us then but now you're all over my family. Godfather to Ron and Hermione's son? Working with my dad? Even Neville has nothing but good things to say about you." Ginny slumped down in the chair, her bright hair streaming out of he clip and down the dark green upholstery.  
  
"I'm sorry -"  
  
"Don't bloody say you're sorry to me. Apologize to Harry. To Ron. To the people who you let down by never being there during the really important times." She was sobbing now, her arms wrapped around her middle as if her newly found heart was strangling all her other organs.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes showed veiled emotions even as she began to wish he would do something. Laugh at her. Hug her. Scream that he wasn't the fraud she had been telling herself that he had been all along. With a wave of his wand, he produced a sterling silver tea service. "Would you like me to pour?"  
  
"Please." The civilness of her reply was ruined by the horrible case of hiccups that always accompanied on of her crying jags. "Aren't you going to say something?"  
  
"Would you like milk or honey?"  
  
"That wasn't what I was thinking of. Were you always this annoying while I was in school?"  
  
Once again, Dumbledore stopped and watched her. The silence stretched out until Ginny felt that she was going to scream. As a child growing up in the Weasley household, she was used to her anger being met by something of equal intensity. Silence reminded her too much of the truly depressing times she had spent all alone in her London apartment.  
  
"This day is not going well!" Ginny wailed, accepting the cup of tea before she slumped back down in the chair. "I left my family without telling them where I was going which I'm sure must have made them, uh, concerned. Neville made the mistake of listening to me when I talked and I doubt I'll see him again for a while. With any kind of luck, he'll forgive me someday. And now I'm currently criticizing the most trusted and important wizard in Britain. Would you like to kick me now or should I drink my tea first?"  
  
She looked up as rusty chuckle erupted from Dumbledore's thin lips. "You always were a bit melodramatic, even as a child. Glad to see you haven't been changed too much by the Muggles. Don't worry, Genevieve. Your parents were alerted to your departure as soon as you got on the bus."  
  
"What? Have you planted a tracking device on me?"  
  
"You forget that you are back in the realm of magic. We have many other ways of finding information than the Muggle world has. In this case, you failed to pay attention to the other passengers."  
  
Ginny snarled, "Let me guess. A Ministry spy?"  
  
"No, Merely your father's under-secretary on his way to Dover to visit his ailing mother. You forget how noticeable you are."  
  
"Why haven't they converged on this house by now? How surprising!"  
  
"Not really. You're an adult and can go where you want. All you had to do was tell them you wanted to leave."  
  
"That's just it. I didn't. Not really. It was just too much for me to handle. I'm not used to being around that many people anymore. I felt strange. Not bad. Just strange. I just needed to get away."  
  
"And why not back to London? You could have melted into the city once again and kept up the façade as a nameless, faceless Muggle."  
  
"I don't want to be lost anymore." Ginny's mind was becoming focused once again. Like a butterfly emerging out of a chrysalis, her true self was emerging from the mind-numbing fog at long last.  
  
"What do you want?" the aging wizard asked, sipping from his tea cup."  
  
"First, some answers. Later, I'll figure out the rest."  
  
"You want to know where I was during the war. Ahh-"  
  
Ginny interrupted him. "No. I don't really care about that. It was the only excuse I had for being angry with you all these years. You were where you needed to be. We all were. I want to know how it is that my father and Neville have such high-ranking jobs at the Ministry of Magic and you're still headmaster at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I make a horrid diplomat." He chuckled again. "Once, I wanted nothing else than to be the head of Britain's wizarding community. Now it is better left up to those who have the desire and ability to see things right again. There is still much for me to do at Hogwarts. That is where I belong."  
  
"Why is Neville at the Ministry though? I always figured he would teach Herbology at Hogwarts or work somewhere that grew things."  
  
"And he well might someday. I don't think his heart will be in his job much longer if you continue on the path you have charted."  
  
A loud scuffling could be heard behind the door leading to the hallway. Ginny glanced over her shoulder with a grim look. "I wonder what that could be?"  
  
"An ottoman, most likely. Lavender should know better than to try to reupholster furniture from the Grovesnor Era. Nasty bit of woodwork, that is. Hundreds of years old and still as cantankerous as the day it was created."  
  
Ginny grinned at him. "So that was Lavender! I was wondering when I first saw her in the hallway. She's still quite beautiful." They could hear the portraits derisive laughter filter through the door.  
  
"Yes, she is. Poor girl. She decided last year to go into interior design but I don't believe it will ever catch on. Why pay someone else to use a wand when everyone has one? Seamus is quite beside himself with trying to drum up business for her."  
  
"This room is beautiful. She did a wonderful job with the colors." For the first time, Ginny actually studied the room. The light green wallpaper was complimented by real strands of ivy growing up the wall and over the ceiling. Enough tiny fairy boxes hung from the vines to provide the room with very good lighting. A small waterfall cascaded out from a group of rocks in the corner and spilled into a tiny stream that ran around the perimeter of the room, feeding the other plants that grew in abundance.  
  
"I have a feeling that Lavender had nothing to do with this room," Dumbledore mused. She decided he was correct when she spotted a Mimbulus mimbletonia growing from a black and white planter box. The special, self- watering holder had been the present she and Harry had given Neville for his seventeenth birthday. Tears sprang to her eyes and she angrily swiped at them, wondering if she was crying because she had lost Harry or because she had seemed to have lost Neville all of a sudden. "I have never cried this much. What a sissy I've become." Dumbledore freshened his teacup and offered to do the same for her. Ginny shook her head and went back to staring into the fire.  
  
"Have you figured out what you would like to do now?"  
  
"I don't know," she said hesitantly. "I feel that if I continue to stay with my mother and father I will never become anything more than 'Poor Ginny', the littlest Weasley. I can't do that, not after taking care of myself for so long. My London apartment suits me but I don't want to be stuck in the Muggle world anymore. It's going to be awhile before I remember all the spells to get around. I just don't know."  
  
"What about here?" Dumbledore indicated the room behind them and Ginny found herself following the arc of his hand. It really was a nice room.  
  
"Neville wasn't very happy with me when we parted company last." Another loud burst of scuffling and shouting penetrated Ginny's misery. "Hmmm . . . another ottoman?"  
  
A loud thump followed a roar that shook the walls. "I think that was Neville's backbone showing."  
  
***  
  
Hermione was pacing again.  
  
"Please tell me you're having problems at work and this isn't about my sister." Ron stopped his wife as she came near him and drew her into his lap. They cuddled for a moment before she sat upright and shook her head.  
  
"I can't help it, Ron. I know she's safe and Dumbledore talked to her about staying but I feel that something isn't right. Like we're going to lose her again if we aren't careful. I hate this tension between us."  
  
He chuckled. "When we were in school, you and Harry always had to remind me that Ginny was a big girl and could take care of herself. Now I get to say the same thing to you. Let her be. She ran for a completely different reason this time and look where she went. Would she have gone to Neville's if she were thinking of hiding away again? The girl's in love if I don't mistake the signs."  
  
"I wish I was as sure as you are."  
  
"Yes, my fine wife. I have taught you much in our years together. Now, go fetch me my slippers."  
  
"I should never have taken you to that Shakespeare festival last year!" she said as she punched him in the shoulder. "Who would have thought that Ronald Weasley would enjoy something as Muggle as a play!" Grinning at him as wickedly as she could, Hermione bent down to kiss the spot she had hit before trailing kisses up his collarbone to the pulse point of his throat. It beat wildly as she caressed it with her tongue before starting up his throat again. She had meant to finish the trail of kisses at his mouth but a loud wail stopped her.  
  
"Maybe if we are very quiet," she whispered against his cheek, "he will give up and go back to sleep."  
  
"Our son? No, he's liable to keep this up until he gets the attention he thinks he deserves."  
  
"And who did he get that from I wonder?" With a parting kiss that made up in promise what it lacked in intensity, the woman left to get the crying baby from the nursery down the hall.  
  
Ron tipped his chair back as he contemplated his sister. He hadn't wanted to admit to his wife that he was worried about Ginny because he had actually never stopped. Knowing that the other brothers would be clingy, he had decided to be the 'supportive' brother and give her a chance to show her hand before jumping all over her with the only options that were applicable.  
  
During all the years she had been missing from their lives, he had never once given up hope that she would come back to stay. The fates would not be that cruel to him. They had taken away his best friend and his left but they had left him with a beautiful wife, two healthy children and a reason to get up each and every morning. Dawn always brought with it the promise that today might be the day that Ginny would come back and he could look her in the eyes and know that she didn't hate him. At that point, he would have peace.  
  
Even Hermione, flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, did not know that aching wound in his heart that had never healed. Ron had watched Harry die, had held the lifeless body close before Hermione had dragged him back to the hospital. Even now he fought back the panic as he remembered that night again. He had left everyone down but especially his beloved sister.  
  
There was only one way to make this right now and he vowed to make sure that nothing stood in the way of Ginny's happiness this time around. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to live with himself after all. 


	7. SemiDetached

Disclaimer: There are whole groups of people that get part of the profit from Harry Potter and the legion of ideas surrounding him. I don't. Never will.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who keeps reading this story. I love the reviews! What a boost for my ego! Special thanks to "Kerri" for the late night conversations about the story - and for leading me down a new path when mine seemed to be blocked with boulders. Sometimes you just have to backtrack and try a new way to the middle of the maze. (  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Semi-detached  
  
Don't you fear when you dream  
  
Waking up is never what it seems  
  
Like a jewel buried deep  
  
Like a promise meant to keep You are everything you want to be  
  
So just let your heart reach out to me  
  
I'll be right by your side  
  
Say goodnight, not good-bye -Beth Neil Chapman  
  
Albus Dumbledore stared at Ginny for a very long time before he finally said, "As you might have already figured out, I don't have all the answers. No person does. I can promise you one thing. The sun will rise again tomorrow and I can say, without any exaggeration, that you are in some part responsible for that."  
  
"I'm not responsible for anything the sun does!" Ginny answered indignantly, shaking herself from the stupor she had fallen in while looking into the fire. Her world had shrunk down to this beautiful room in the last three hours. There was nothing important that existed outside of the four walls.  
  
"No, but you are responsible for there still being an earth for the sun to shine upon. I don't think anyone fully realizes what your sacrifices meant. What any of the sacrifices meant. Voldemort was not just a danger to the wizarding community. His rule would have also meant destruction for the Muggle world. Your efforts saved the human race."  
  
"I didn't do anything special. It was the right thing to do."  
  
"There is still something holding you back from complete healing, I suspect. You let Neville and your family into your life but not your heart. You don't seem comfortable going into public unless you can be anonymous. Why?"  
  
"I don't know. They got in as far as I was comfortable."  
  
"Comfortable will get you a broken heart and lonely future every time."  
  
"I've already dealt with a broken heart. How much harder can a lonely future be? Maybe I'll get a cat. Or a couple. I'll be the crazy old lady in a house overflowing with cats. How can you be lonely with a hundred cats to feed every day?"  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her flippant attitude. The fire was mesmerizing her once again. It was time to act. Pulling out his wand, Dumbledore shot a stream of yellow light towards the French doors leading outside and another one towards the door into the hallway.  
  
"What did you do that for?" Ginny was on her feet now, the hair on the back of her neck still standing up from the electricity that had shot past her.  
  
"You will be staying here for now. In this room. No other human can come in unless you open the door. You can exit into the house but not outside but only if you state your purpose and the door deems it a worthy cause." His expression softened as he looked down at his young friend. "If you want to hide forever, you will hide here. I only hope that you will realize that your sacrifices also made it possible for you to live, not just survive. Don't let your past keep you from your future."  
  
Before she could answer, he was gone.  
  
***  
  
The door hadn't moved in the three hours she stared at it today nor for the three and half she had watched it last night. It wasn't like she had anything else better to do with her day then watch the dull painted wood and shiny handles.  
  
She was feeling lost and confused. Harry was no longer in the forefront of her thoughts but there were still so many other emotions to feel. Her family had to be disappointed with the way she had run out on them so suddenly but she didn't know how to tell them that she lost her nerve that day.  
  
The old Ginny would have enjoyed the banter. The new Ginny wasn't used to so many voices at once. The old Ginny knew where her life was going. The new Ginny barely knew what to eat for lunch. The old Ginny knew that her family loved her no matter what. The new Ginny worried that she had alienated them forever.  
  
The old Ginny had loved unselfishly. The new Ginny wanted to guard her heart.  
  
A snowy owl flew through the open window, only just barely ruffling the leaves of the plants blooming in the window box before landing on the arm of the chair where Ginny sat moping.  
  
"Hedwig! I haven't seen you in ages. You look gorgeous!" The owl nipped lovingly at her hand as she stroked the downy feathers. They renewed their friendship before the owl held out her leg. Attached was a letter from Hermione.  
  
Dear Ginny: It's three in the morning and Grant has just gone back to sleep but I don't seem to be tired. So much has happened lately and the family is on edge. Not to beat a dead horse, but we miss you very much. I think this time is worse because we know where you are but we can't reach you. Dumbledore has been to visit and told us that you will be staying in Neville's parlor for the time being. It has been strange to be without Neville, as well. He has become one of the family over the years but he hasn't been dropping by lately. I think he must also be feeling the strain. If you see him, please let him know that we miss him. You're both invited to Sunday dinner. If you come, you come. If you don't, you don't. No pressure. Just a side note, if you don't mind very much, will you take care of Hedwig? She has put up with our household for the past four years but I think she will be happier with you. No matter what you decide, be happy, little sister. Hermione  
  
Tears splashed down on the rolled parchment before she realized she was crying. She stroked the owl while she contemplated her next move. Part of her wanted to run back to her parent's house, shouting her apologies loudly. Another part wasn't ready to take responsibility for being a member of a family again.  
  
Another owl flew through the window, landing beside Hedwig. A parcel dropped from the bag in his mouth and he was off again. Frowning at the odd brown paper, Ginny bent forward and grabbed the package. There were no markings on the outside but a card dropped out of the book as she unwrapped it.  
  
Ginny, Please don't think I'm being forward by sending this to you. I thought you might enjoy reading it. I had Terry sign it. Neville  
  
Dumbledore's Army by Professor Terry Boot was etched with sparkling gold dust into the black dragon's hide on the cover. She flipped open the book to the front page. Ginny, this won't bring Harry back but I hope it will help you come back to us. Such a tiny bit of history compared to what we learned about in our History of Magic classes but such an important bit. Terry  
  
She flipped another page to the dedications and bit the inside of her lip to keep from sobbing. Without this group of outstanding people, there would be no existence worth living. In the words of a great Muggle, "Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few." I strongly believe that. This is my way of showing my love and appreciation to each and every one of them. And to Harry Potter, who lived such a short time for such a great purpose, I dedicate this book.  
  
"Look, Hedwig. It's Harry." It hadn't been hard to find the large picture of her dearest friend. The black and white portrait at the beginning of Chapter 4, Harry Potter - A Life of Wonder made Ginny laugh as she remembered the time it had been taken. A reporter had come by Hogwarts to interview Harry on how his Firebolt had helped him catch the Snitch during 35 straight Quidditch matches. This was the only picture he had ever posed for gladly. The owl hooted as the boy grinned and waved at the two of them.  
  
"We'll come back to him. Let's see who else there is in this book." She flipped to the front again and looked at the chapter. The section entitled Neville Longbottom - Determination & Fortitude caught her eye. All the pictures were strangely empty but Ginny enjoyed reading the information about this man whom she seemed to no longer understand. So many of the holes from the past four years were filling in now. She still had questions for Neville that she needed answered but now was not the time to think about them all.  
  
Wondering over to the window, she could enjoy the sunshine. The back gardens were starting to take on shape as the overgrowth was beaten back by an indefinable number of sheep. It had been a surprise to look out the window the first time and see the white, woolly creatures eating away at the foliage - grass, trees, bushes. These weren't like the sheep that normally lined the hills. All of them were roughly the size of male hippos with hundreds of tiny claws on the bottom of their hooves that aerated the lawn as they walked over it. It was enjoyable to watch them go about their jobs but slightly scary when they took breaks by jumping over hedges or chasing each other over the smooth lawns.  
  
Watching the strange creatures was doing little to keep her mind off the current problems that plagued her. The bright sunshine on the manicured grass reminded her of the park where Neville convinced her to come home and all the old insecurities and doubts rose to the surface once again. She chewed at her ragged fingernails and paced away from the window.  
  
Neville's present was lying open to the very center when she walked by, Hedwig looking surprisingly nonchalant. Taking a closer look, she saw a new picture. A picture of Dumbledore's Army taken during a break in the fighting. The ragged group had smiled for the picture, claiming the Colin was making them stop ever fifteen minutes for a photo op as he covered the war for the Daily Prophet. It was odd to remember how much laughter and happiness they had all shared while dealing with the terror and bloodshed of war. Harming someone with a wand was really no different then using a Muggle weapon. Death still looked and smelled and felt the same.  
  
It was amazing how she hadn't been haunted by thoughts of the war in the last four years. She didn't hear the screams of the wounded or smell the tang of the blood anymore. It had haunted her every night before she fled. Being near Harry had made it better. His death had erased all thoughts from her mind - all feelings from her heart. In a way, going numb had saved her.  
  
"I have to find this girl again," she whispered, caressing her smudged face and flyaway curls. "I need that sense of adventure and fair play. I need her optimism. I want to smile and feel it in my heart. I want to love Neville without either of us feeling guilty."  
  
Her eyes were dry but her heart was crying. Drained from the intense emotions she had felt over the last four days, and especially from today, Ginny curled on the couch and fell asleep as Hedwig softly brushed her cheeks with her wing.  
  
***  
  
Neville pounded his pillow into a new shape. It was only early evening but, having stayed up for the past 48 hours, he felt that he needed to at least attempt to sleep. Everyone had been giving him a wide berth at work lately. Between his haggard face and fierce temper, no one wanted to deal with him.  
  
He didn't blame them. All he wanted to do was stare at the door in the room now dubbed "Ginny's Garden Parlor" by the portraits. It was a waste of time waiting for something to happen but Dumbledore had effectively kept him from running to Ginny. She was as effectively cloaked from Neville as if his wand had become a plastic fish.  
  
When he wasn't brooding at the office or pacing the floors at home, he was trying not to dream. He knew that he needed sleep soon but every time he tried, he could see his mother the last time he had seen her alive. She had smiled at him in the vague way he had gone accustomed to over the years but something was different this time. There was a light in her eyes as she caressed his hand. When she spoke, he had physically jumped.  
  
"Son." Her voice was low, hoarse from disuse. She hadn't said anything else and the light had gone out of her eyes as she slipped into a final unconsciousness.  
  
When he had dreamed of this moment before, it had made him feel warm and loved. Now it made him feel empty, like something had been left undone.  
  
"Why?" he groaned, flinging the blankets aside. "Why now? Why me?"  
  
The sleeping drought was still in the cabinet from the last time he had used it. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't go that deep into oblivion again but he didn't have much choice. His secretary was liable to leave for good if he snapped at her again. Taking a swig from the bottle without aid of a spoon, he stared at the haggard man in the mirror before him. Was that a gray hair? The sudden blurring of the image reminded him that he needed to get back to bed before he ended up sleeping on the floor here in the loo.  
  
The last thing he saw as he entered the bedroom was the pillow he had pummelled into submission just minutes earlier. He sincerely hoped he was close enough to the bed to land on it. 


	8. Completing the Puzzle

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (hehehehe - thought I'd use a real one for once)  
  
Author's Note: Okay, Ginny was getting a little melodramatic. Sorry about that. I suppose we all do from time to time. Sometimes a friend needs to come along and kick us in the butt and tell us to get moving. Thanks to all the friends that do that to me!  
  
Chapter 8 Completing the Puzzle  
  
You don't have to wear that mask You are loved, no questions ask There is no test to pass, no grade to earn For years you've kept your wounded heart locked deep inside You can be free at last, but you've got to decide. -Susan Ashton  
  
Bright sunlight and a persistent pounding brought Ginny out of a sound sleep.  
  
"Gin? Open the door. Come on, sis. Open the door."  
  
She was surprised to hear Ron's voice but even more surprised how high the sun hung in the sky.  
  
"Just a minute, Ron," she yelled. There was nothing she could do about the dreadful state of her hair now but she did succeed in smoothing out most of the wrinkles in her shirt. It would have been nice if Dumbledore had supplied her with a wider selection of clothing then what she was currently wearing.  
  
She had barely opened the door when she was swept into a suffocating bear hug. "You worried us. You have to quit leaving like that."  
  
"Sorry about that. Didn't plan that one. It just happened. You have to let go, Ron, or I'm going to faint."  
  
"Faint?" He swept her up in the arms and carried her to the nearest chair. "Why didn't you say something? Has Neville forgotten to feed you?"  
  
"No, nothing like that. I couldn't breath. You were hugging me too tight." She watched her brother's face change from concerned back to agitated and cursed her luck.  
  
A nagging sense of loss tugged at her. There had been something important that she lost when Ron interrupted her dreams. She needed to remember what it was.  
  
Ron reached up and moved his hair out of his face and suddenly everything about the dream came back to her.  
  
She had been walking beside a stream that she had never remembered seeing before. The birds were all singing and the wind was whistling through the low branches of the nearby trees. It had been the most peaceful place she had ever been to.  
  
"Hello, Ginny." Harry appeared at her side and took her hand. "It's been a long time. I'm glad you decided to visit."  
  
"Is this where you live now?"  
  
"No, but I've been waiting for you here."  
  
"For a long time?"  
  
He pulled her into his arms and sighed. "Yes. For a very long time. I was wondering if you would ever be able to visit me here. Your heart's been closed off before this and you've only been able to look behind and not ahead."  
  
With a deep sigh of contentment, Ginny wrapped her arms around him. Something was different, though. She felt uncomfortable.  
  
"Harry, you feel strange. My arms don't' wrap around you like they used to. I don't fit into your curves like I did."  
  
"I haven't changed, little one. You've changed. You've moved on. Neville is where your heart belongs now. He's a good man and he'll take care of you."  
  
"But you-"  
  
"I'm only real in your dreams. In this place. You can visit here but you can't stay."  
  
The feeling of wrongness persisted and she backed away. "Can I still love you?"  
  
"You can never stop loving me. Just like I'll never stop loving you. There's room in your heart for another, though. Go to him and help him remember that he is brave and strong and true. He has hidden his feelings away almost as deeply as you."  
  
"Wow. You rhymed."  
  
She watched him blush deeply and stick his hands in his pockets. "I was trying to be poetic."  
  
"You don't do poetic well. Never have."  
  
"Okay then, I'll be plain. Go to Neville. Tell him you love him. Kiss him and tell him you never want to leave him. Be brutally honest with him. He'll understand you better that way."  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"No. Don't start that. You want to be the old Ginny but that girl is gone forever. You need to find a new Ginny. A combination of the old, confident girl and the new, independent woman."  
  
"Independent?" She frowned at him. It had never dawned on her that she had become independent, only that she had been hiding from reality.  
  
"Sure. This new Ginny is more exciting then the old one. Who would have ever thought that you would yell at Dumbledore? Or get a Muggle job? That even impressed me."  
  
"I impressed you?"  
  
"Sure. Your only problem now is that you're afraid to feel any real emotion. The second you do, you shut down. Your poor heart is about to collapse from the strain of this constant hiding. In order for you to become whole again, you need to open up. Be real. Experience life. Give away your love. Accept the pain of reality along with the beauty of relationships."  
  
"Now, that was deep." She flashed him a cheeky grin and held out her hand. He grasped it and stared in her eyes.  
  
"You can do this, Ginny. You have the strength inside you."  
  
"I want to do it. I know I need to do it. It's just hard."  
  
"Hard is a good thing. It means life's worth living. Hard makes the special better. If you try living, the light will come back in your eyes. I miss the light in your eyes."  
  
"I miss you, Harry."  
  
"I know you do. This is all I can offer you."  
  
She watched warily as he leaned toward her, knowing now was as good a time as ever to close her eyes and wait for the inevitable feel of his lips on hers. Was it possible to kiss a dream? She could feel his hands clutching hers, his breath as he neared her face. Would it feel the same?  
  
It did. His kiss was all she remembered it to be. A part of her wanted to fall into his arms and refuse to ever leave him. The other part of her wanted to run back to Neville and try his kisses again.  
  
"See, you can love two people without sacrificing your feelings," he whispered as he pulled back slightly.  
  
"You're getting better. That was both poetic and deep."  
  
They both chuckled and broke contact. "Do one more thing for me? Give Ron a message. Tell him that I said Checkmate. I win."  
  
"Ginny? Ginny?"  
  
She shook her head. Instead of the stream and birds and trees, she was back in the vine-strewn room with Ron.  
  
"It looked like you left me for a minute."  
  
"Sorry, Ron. Still not very awake. I was remembering a dream I had. It seemed-" she faltered, shaking her head to clear the last part of the vision from her memory. She needed to go ahead with her life, not look back. "It seemed real but I'm not sure."  
  
"Was it a nice dream?"  
  
"Very nice. It was strange because I haven't dreamed in forever. Harry was there."  
  
Ron choked and turned red. Before she could react, he was staring at her while making small wheezing sounds.  
  
"He told me to give you a message."  
  
"A message? Me?" he croaked.  
  
"Yes. Checkmate. I win. I don't know what he meant though."  
  
Silent tears ran down Ron's face. He had lost the ruddy glow and gone dreadfully pale but a smile hovered on his lips. "In all the years we played Wizard's Chess, he never beat me. Not once. He never got to finish the game, never got to say Checkmate. I think this was his way of telling me he was okay."  
  
"That you needed to finish the game and start a new one." Ginny was surprised how deceptively simple the dream had been but how important the message was that Harry had conveyed. She obviously wasn't the only one who needed to move forward. "Do you think it was just a dream, Ron?"  
  
"No. No, it was much more then just a dream. That was a gift."  
  
She nodded and hugged her brother tightly. "That's what I thought, too. Harry told me that I needed to go forward. I agree. I'm tired of sitting around, waiting for life to happen to me. I want to make something happen for a change."  
  
"I think you need to go find Neville and tell him what Harry said to you. He needs to know."  
  
"My thoughts exactly. Can you take me to the Ministry of Magic?"  
  
"Would love to. I think Neville has some Floo Powder somewhere in this house. Let me go check with Dad and see if I can sneak you in the back without having to go through security."  
  
She tried not to shiver as she remembered some of her past experiences at the Ministry. This is not the time to get fidgety, she reminded herself silently. "Good. First thing first. I need a shower and some new clothes." She ran out of the room and down the hallway. The portraits were strangely silent as she ran past but she heard the explosion of conversation as she darted down a new hall. Guided by instinct, she finally found Neville's suite of rooms. It didn't look like a house elf had been in yet.  
  
The tub was large and oval, perfect for a long soak - preferably not alone. It would have to wait. She stripped off her clothes, throwing them as far across the room as she could before stepping under the spray of the hot shower. Surprisingly, there was an unused container of peach shampoo in among Neville's more masculine smelling items. Jealousy and intrigue warred with each other before she pushed them both aside. This kind of problem didn't matter now. She would leave this battle for later - when she had him in the shower.  
  
Her choices in clothing were limited. A belt solved part of her problem as she cinched in a pair of charcoal trousers. A black t-shirt covered by a soft chambray shirt completed the outfit. She felt like a little girl playing dress up in her father's closet. Ginny gave herself just enough time to braid her wet hair before hurrying back down the hall.  
  
"Don't you look a picture," Gran commented from her spot of honor on the wall.  
  
Ginny skidded to a stop, her hand on the knob to the parlor. Her heart was beating rapidly from both desperation to find Neville and terror that she would be held in this house by something other then Dumbledore's charms. "I hope you don't mind but I'm going to find your grandson and tell him that I love him."  
  
"Good for you. Be sure and kiss him at least once. It will be much more enjoyable then just yelling at him."  
  
Staring with disbelief at the picture, she noticed a difference in the matron's portrait. There was a definite difference in the stately lady that had not been there last time. Even the lines in the background seemed softer.  
  
"You don't mind that I love Neville? That we might live here?"  
  
"By all means, my dear. You have my hearty blessing. This house could use some love. Be sure to fill it with children. Lots and lots of children."  
  
Ginny's cheeks matched her hair as she turned and fled back into her room. It was strange that she thought of it is like that but the beautiful space did indeed feel like home.  
  
"Did you get everything worked out with Dad?"  
  
Ron turned from the window where he had been watching the gigantic sheep. "He's pleased that you want to come but we have to go through the normal channels to get you in."  
  
"You mean-"  
  
"Yep. The front door."  
  
All thoughts of a happy reunion fled as Ginny tried to force air into lungs that didn't seem to remember how to work. She had read about panic attacks while doing research in the Muggle library but couldn't remember what she needed to do to stop one. Breathing would have been a great first step but there was no way that was going to be happening any time soon.  
  
"Okay, Gin. This is one of those things that you have to suck up and do for the sake of moving forward. Remember the dream? Remember Harry? You have to move forward. Are you listening to me?"  
  
She really wanted to tell him to go to hell but short gasps of meaningless air were all she could get out.  
  
"If you don't snap out of this, I'm going to have to take you to see Hermione instead. She's a good kisser but I don't think you'll appreciate that as much as I do."  
  
His trick worked. Imagining the look on everyone's face if she kissed Ron's wife made her snort with laughter.  
  
"Why did you have to bring up kissing?"  
  
"Because if you don't kiss Neville within seconds of seeing him then I'm not taking you anywhere."  
  
"You're my older brother. Isn't there a code somewhere that says you have to hate anyone I like? I distinctly remember you telling me in school that there was a code written out somewhere that stated that you had to hate every boy who looked twice at me."  
  
He cupped her face with his hands and leaned on her forehead with his. "We're adults now, Gin. As long as you are happy, I'm happy. That's how this works. I'll love anyone who loves you as much as humanly possible. That's all I ask for."  
  
"I do love him, Ron."  
  
"Then lets go tell him. You get through this and you can get through anything. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
***  
  
Neville rubbed his forehead and tried to concentrate on the stack of papers on the desk before him. They had been threatening to fall over all morning but he was making no progress at all on them. The Quidditch World Cup was to be held in Scotland this year and he had a huge job in front of him. Keeping the Muggles unaware of the huge stadium nestled in the highlands was a rather large task and it was all his.  
  
"Sir, you wanted me to alert you fifteen minutes before the meeting?"  
  
His poor secretary was definitely scared of him. He hadn't yelled at her once this morning but that didn't make up for the tirades from the weeks before. Maybe a nice gift would cheer her up. Nothing up to this point in his life and prepared him for buying things for females. What did the average secretary consider a decent present for putting up with horrible tempered men who didn't sleep and only ate when prodded by aggressive house elves?  
  
"Ginny would know," he muttered, forgetting that he needed to say things in his mind and not out loud.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Uh, nothing. I was reminding myself to bring the right set of papers to the meeting. Where did you say I was to go?"  
  
"Level Seven. Room Three One Two."  
  
"Right. I'll just leave now. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"  
  
She looked at him, searching for the hidden meaning in his words. "I would appreciate that, sir, but there is still a lot for me do to with the Crenshaw report."  
  
"Never mind that. It'll keep until tomorrow." He had yelled at her yesterday for not having the report finished. Bloody hell. This is what it must feel like to lose one's mind. "Don't give it another thought."  
  
"Certainly, sir. Why don't I just take my lunch now and I'll come back after your meeting. That will give me a bit longer for lunch but I won't be too far away if you need anything this afternoon."  
  
"Perfect solution." He scrambled out the door, knowing she was staring after him. More then likely he would have yet another visit from the office shrink as soon as he was back at his desk.  
  
It wasn't pleasant to be the current topic of conversation throughout the Ministry. Word had spread of Ginny being found and lost again. Luckily, no one had figured that she was staying in his house. Wouldn't that be a riot if all the gossips found out that she was hidden in his parlor where he couldn't see her?  
  
More and more he was rethinking his decision to stay in his current job. He wasn't cut out for this kind of work. People scared him. They always had. Plants were so much kinder. They demanded nothing but water and food and sunlight. The last plea from Hujuxly Botany Institute was tucked away in his top desk drawer. They had been after him for months to come join their newest research team. While he searched for Ginny, he had been able to give them good reasons for not coming on board but now it was much harder to say no. His heart was torn. Until Ginny was completely settled, he felt that he couldn't leave the MoM. People were counting on him. He couldn't let them down.  
  
"Floor seven," a friendly voice reminded him as the lift stopped.  
  
"Thanks," he mumbled, never sure if there was a person behind the voice that would care if he acknowledged the words or not. The walls that greeted him were crimson and gold, reminding him of the Gryffindor common room. This was the part of the building that housed the Ministry of Magical Sports and Games so; of course, banners and flags were the main decoration.  
  
"What room number did she say I was supposed to go to?" he muttered to himself, searching the pile of papers in his arms for the small piece of paper that he had scribbled the location on.  
  
"Neville!"  
  
The load in his arms slid to the floor as Neville slowly pivoted around. The voice sounded strangely familiar. "Harry?" 


	9. Today Will Be Different

To everyone that has waited for the next segment, I hope that the wait hasn't been long and that this will tide you over until the next one is done. I lost my muse for a short time but found it again is after a serious of a lot of ficlets.........thanks so much to Holly and Kaz and JenMo and SaraJo. You all make me a better writer.  
  
Chapter 9: Today Will Be Different  
  
Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops...at all. –Emily Dickinson  
  
"You never call. You never write. You never come up to this part of the building. I've been hanging on this wall for three years now. I thought you'd at least visit."  
  
Neville tried to remember to breath as he looked at his old friend. The cheeky grin was there as were the green eyes glittering with laughter behind the glasses and the stark scar. It was like the hero had never left, only stepped into his Quidditch robes for a moment of rest in the middle of a pitch.  
  
"I didn't mean to kiss her, Harry." His face grew red as he realized what he had just said.  
  
"Sure you did. As a matter of fact, I'm glad you kissed her. She needs to move on." Harry, resplendent in his crimson uniform threw a calm bludger up and down with ease. "Why are you still here, Neville? Why aren't you at your house, planning a summer wedding?"  
  
"I was thinking fall." This was lunacy. He was talking to a portrait about a girl they both loved. "The leaves of the oaks would match her hair."  
  
"There you go. Already a step in the right direction."  
  
"This is insane. Aren't you angry that I love your girl?"  
  
"My girl? Not anymore, mate. Not anymore. She's yours. That is, if you want her. You're going to have to work on her, I think. She's a feisty one. I think you should skip your meeting and go back to your office. Plan on taking a long lunch."  
  
"But I have this meeting..."  
  
Harry laughed and shrugged. "Leave the papers there. They'll get them eventually. Just do me a favor, mate. Come by and visit sometime. It gets lonely in this area of the ministry."  
  
"Why don't you, you know, move around in the other portraits?"  
  
The deep chuckle bounced around the empty hallway. "Don't worry. I get around. It's just better if I stay in the background. It keeps from having too many unwanted visitors. It's just nice to have visitors here in my little hallway."  
  
"Wonder if the guys who work up here would like that you call this your little hallway."  
  
"You forget something, Neville. I'm Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. The blokes who work here love that I call it my hallway." The cocky grin was firmly back in place but his eyes were sad. "I've got a hallway. You've got a long life with a beautiful girl. Go, Neville, before I start to rethink this idea."  
  
"Miss Weasley, you're going to have to sign in before I can let you go through this door."  
  
"But, you don't understand. I need-"  
  
The guard stood in the middle of the doorway, refusing to let either Ginny or Ron by. They had tried arguing, cajoling and whining. Ron was now digging in his pockets to try bribing.  
  
"You've seen my credentials. Why can't that be good enough? We won't be here long. The Minister of Muggle Relations is waiting to see us."  
  
"Sign in and I'll be more than happy to let you escort Miss Weasley to the appropriate office."  
  
"I'm not a threat to the peace of the wizarding community. Why won't you let me by?"  
  
"Sign in-"  
  
"You keep saying that!" Her face was red now and the urge to grab her brother's wand was high. "Do you like your job?"  
  
It was useless for her to threaten this man, but she felt that she was getting nowhere. She would have signed in when she first came in but she and Ron had discussed it and the fact that she had been away for so long, the time it would take to get the appropriate badge would be better served just trying to get by the guard. Now she wasn't so sure.  
  
"I do like my job. That doesn't mean you can't sign in."  
  
Ron tried to calm her down but she pushed away his hands. "No, I don't think you understand. I need to-"  
  
"Is there a problem here?"  
  
Ginny heard her brother's sharp intake of breath at the new arrival but she was watching the guard to pay much attention. He had gone white and his posture tightened.  
  
"No, sir. No problem."  
  
"There is a problem here and..." her voice drifted as she looked up - and up. The tall, black man towered over them all, even Ron. "Kingsley?"  
  
"If it isn't little Ginny Weasley. What're you doing here? Come to visit your father?"  
  
"No, I'm trying to get through to see Neville but I seem to have run into a bit of a snag."  
  
"I've got this, Craig. Let her through."  
  
"But, sir-"  
  
The fierce eyes and lowered brow backed the guard against the wall, opening up a pathway for the siblings. A pair of goblins edged past them, grumbling about youngsters and rude manners. Ginny found she was unsure of her next step now that they had crossed the biggest barrier. She was in but where did that leave her? With little hesitation, she fell into step beside the large man. Once, she had known him as a fellow fighter of justice. It wasn't a deep friendship, but enough of one that she felt compelled to know how he had been since she had seen him last.  
  
"How've you been, Kingsley?"  
  
"Good." He looked at her without turning his head. "I'd show you pictures but we're almost there."  
  
"Pictures? I want to see pictures. Can I assume that you and Tonks...." She lifted her eyebrow and smiled up at him.  
  
Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he pulled out his wallet and began pulling out pictures of his pink-haired wife and children.  
  
"We just had our third last month. The twins will be three in August." The little group waved at them from a group of trees, the two little boys changing the location of their ears. "As you can see, they take after their mother a little more than we would like."  
  
"The baby is precious. Be sure to give Tonks my love."  
  
"I will. Stay safe, Ginny."  
  
The door to Neville's department loomed in front of her as she handed the photos back and returned the sentiment. This is what she wanted to do. Why was she feeling so ill?  
  
Ron, who had followed after them, stepped to the door, blocking it with his body.  
  
"Move, Ron. Now you're in my way."  
  
"I just want to make sure this is what you want." His eyes were fierce as he gazed at his little sister. He knew this was what she needed to do but he couldn't bear to have her heart hurt once again. "If you aren't ready for this, I can take you back to, uh, well, wherever you wanted to go."  
  
"And where will that be, Ron? I can't go back to his house and live in his library for the rest of my life and I don't want to go to my flat."  
  
"You have options, hon. Lots and lots of options. Mum and Dad would love to have you back with them and Hermione and I would take you in a heart beat."  
  
"That's not the kind of life I want. Going back home to be cosseted like the fragile little daughter is not what I've spent the last twenty-three years preparing for. And if I stay with you two, I'll have to spend time with each one of the others. Can you see it? I'll never have a home of my own if you all have your way."  
  
Her light eyes snapping, she tried to contain the bitterness at the thought of being passed around like a child's toy. Leave it to her family to try to keep her ten and innocent. What she really wanted was through those doors. It was settled.  
  
"Move. I'm not going back with you so you can quit looking at me like that. I'll let you take care of me some other time."  
  
His hand caressed her cheek. "I don't think I'll ever get to take care of you. You do too good a job at it."  
  
With a quick kiss on the cheek, she pushed him out of the way and ran to the first person she could see.  
  
"Excuse me, is this Neville Longbottom's office?"  
  
The mousy woman lifted her head and stared at the flame-haired girl for a second before dropping her eyes back to her desk. "Yes, but-"  
  
"Thank you," she said over her shoulder as she walked into the inner office. The room felt strangely empty, void of all character of its usual occupant. A large desk dominated the room, piled high with papers and folders while the two chairs normally reserved for guests were holding a variety of stacked picture frames that should have normally graced the overwhelmed piece of furniture.  
  
She picked up the first one and smiled at the same picture of the rag-tag group of fighters that she had first seen in the book. Flipping through the next few, she saw his wan mother propped up on a bed with a younger Neville beside her, a rather nice shot of his grandmother at a garden party with a group of equally old and wrinkled society witches, and a picture of the Weasley family including Neville.  
  
Holding the picture up, she smiled at the inclusion of this man who obviously already fit so well into her family. It was obvious that the children loved him, considering that they were all fighting to stand beside him.  
  
After the final child was sorted out and the fun began again, she sat the picture down to see the last one. It took her breath away. Twilight was just starting to fall and a girl thoughtfully watched the change from a small window. She wiped at a tear and put her head on her arms.  
  
"I take it he's not in here." Ron had let her have a few minutes to herself but now came into the room and took a look around for himself.  
  
She sat the other frames down on the chair and turned around. "No. He's not. I feel very sorry for him looking at this place."  
  
"Yes. He's never really liked this job." They looked around the room, both contemplating the man they knew, each in such a different way. "There are a few indications around here of the man he really is, though. That plant over there by the window, for example. It's probably the best kept plant you'll ever find in an office building."  
  
The green leaves of the flourishing plant shone in the sunlight streaming through the glass. It was fake light, of course, being that this level was underground, but it looked real enough. The view of green, lush lawn completed the peaceful seating area.  
  
"Why is he here?"  
  
"I would think that would be obvious. It kept him close to you. Until recently, it was a job that was purely about making sure we found you and you were safe."  
  
She couldn't keep back the sarcastic little laugh. "I don't believe you. I mean I understand that you were all worried about me but I can't believe that the Ministry cared enough that they paid someone a salary for four years to look for me."  
  
"Believe it, Gin. Actually, it helped other people in the process."  
  
"By giving them a job that allowed them to wander the streets of London to get their exercise?"  
  
"Funny. It gave people a reason to go on when everything still seemed bleak. Sure, we were sad but there was a reason we got up each day and kept going. Life went on. It took something like this to remind us of that.'  
  
She shook her head and sat in the chair behind the desk, the only empty chair in the room. "I'm tired of being this great redeemer, Ron. It's getting old. I'm just a girl who's having trouble figuring out what her next move is. Is it enough that I ask for one second to think my options through?"  
  
"You had four years. Isn't that enough time?"  
  
"No." With her head bent forward, she looked at the picture still in her grip. The girl continued to wipe her tears and sigh at the moon. This girl was afraid to look toward the future. "I didn't have four years. The rest of you had something to look forward to doing each day. You had each other to lean on and depend on to help you through the hard times. I didn't have that. When you moved forward, I stayed in the same place."  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry."  
  
"Now leave me alone."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ron, I have to figure out my next step."  
  
The man cleared one of the chairs with a swift motion and sat down. "We'll figure this out together. Like you said, you didn't have anyone to help you move forward. Now you do."  
  
For a heart-stopping moment, Ginny thought she was going to start weeping. She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry today. "Thank you. It's nice to know that I'm going to move forward. I'm tired of standing still." 


	10. What I Mean To Say

Here is another installment of the saga of a nice boy and a nice girl searching for true love. Ah, the angst, the romance - the Fluff (capital F intended). A majority of this was written while I listened to "Half Life" by Duncan Sheik. Check it out if you like Flangsty music.  
  
Chapter 10: What I Mean To Say  
  
A life unexamined isn't worth living. -Plato  
  
His mind clearly elsewhere, Neville Apparated just outside his own front door. As was the responsibility of all good house-elves, the door was locked good and tight. Knowing that he was not thinking clearly enough to be able to try to Apparate again inside the house, he resorted to pounding with all his might on the solid oak door.  
  
"Master Neville! The sun is still high. You are home? Something is wrong! Kibbie calls the medics right away. Come rest." Running past an agitated house-elf trying it's best to be helpful requires the strength of ten men and a calm mind. Since Neville had neither, he did the next best thing. Grabbing Kibbie by his large ears, he swung him over his back and carried him down the hall.  
  
"Ginny! Ginny! You have to let me in!" he yelled as he ran, already out of breath from his hectic journey so far and the weight of the small servant. "Please, let me explain!" The carpet was also proving a problem for a fast trip down the gloomy passage. The centuries-old fabric was not used to such activity and tore every time the man tried to gain better traction. Faithful house-elves had polished the wood around the runner just that morning and it was proving to be a formidable obstacle.  
  
Without thinking of the consequences to his action, he decided to come to a full stop and evaluate the situation. Man, servant, carpet runner and a side table all flew down the without regard for gravity or the proper speed which mortal objects should fly through enclosed spaces. A rather nicely reupholstered chair stopped their progress.  
  
"What's all the commotion? Is it Boxing Day already?" a grizzled man asked from his still-wobbling portrait.  
  
"Oy! Haven't had this much fun in this place since the Goblin Rebellion of '58," another answered back, righting his tri-corn hat that had fallen over one eye. "Tell me boy, have we defeated the new uprising?"  
  
"No uprising, sir. Just an error in judgement," muttered Neville as he tried to extract his leg from beautiful brocade, springs and stuffing. "Kippie, remind me to have Lavender start working on these hall carpets tomorrow." There was a stirring from under the tattered remains of the offending fabric and a groan of agreement.  
  
"Neville!" Gran exclaimed from a nearby portrait. "What do you mean by causing all this commotion. Stand up and tell me what you're about without resorting to all your mumblings."  
  
"I've come to tell Ginny to come out of that blasted room so that I can tell her I love her. Once and for all, I want her to know that I feel this way about her not because of who she was but who she is. Right now. Right here. I love her."  
  
The older woman shook her head. "I'm delighted that you've finally sorted out your feelings but you're too late."  
  
"How can I be too late?"  
  
"She's not there," the milkmaid up above Gran mournfully told him. "She left this morning."  
  
"You saw her?" The portraits all nodded in unison, right down the small child on the wooden horse who spent most of his time eating licorice whips. "But where, I mean, how did she, er, where?"  
  
The hallway was silent.  
  
"I love her," he whispered, reminding himself what he was doing home in the middle of the afternoon. She couldn't have gotten too far in one day. This sinking feeling in his stomach was merely a reminder that he hadn't had anything to eat in days. It wasn't the fear that she had decided that she didn't ever want to see him again. It wasn't because he dreaded that she decided to lose herself in the Muggle world again.  
  
"Gran? What would you expect me to do with the news that Ginny left?" When she stared at him oddly, he shook his head and faced the painting with his chin up. "What would Neville Longbottom do with the information that the woman he loved was not where he left her? Would he hide in his room? Run off to find her? What would he do? Tell me because I want to do the exact opposite."  
  
"Why, dear boy? You're a Longbottom. You've always had this strength of spirit. It just took a real test to make you aware of it."  
  
"So the exact opposite is?"  
  
"There is not opposite. Listen to yourself. You've been the Minister in charge of Muggle Affairs for the past four years. When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you've always had this potential inside of you? Don't worry about the opposite of what you think you would have done. Do what's in your heart."  
  
His brain was telling him to lock himself in the front room and concentrate on his plants. They wouldn't ever hurt him.  
  
His heart fought that idea, though. It was telling him to concentrate on finding her. Four years or forty. It didn't matter.  
  
Having learned his lesson on the way down the hall, he walked back to the door even when he wanted to run. He needed a plan. Just moving forward helped him feel like he was doing something, though. His one hope was that she was also moving forward.  
  
"Where would she go if she was moving forward?"  
  
"Master Neville?" came the muffled voice. Lifting up the worn fabric, Neville freed his house-elf.  
  
"Kibbie, I'm awfully sorry that I swung you around by your ears."  
  
"Oh, please don't be sorry. Kibbie enjoyed it. Truly Kibbie did."  
  
"It's just that I was so excited." He opened the front door and stood, half in and half out. "Where would she go, Kibbie? Where will she move forward to?"  
  
"Sometimes moving ahead means going back."  
  
The idea had merit. "Back to the beginning?"  
  
"No, not necessarily. Back to where it started."  
  
"The beginning."  
  
The house-elf shook his head, a small smile playing on his huge mouth. Even his ears twitched with the merriment he seemed to be holding in. "No. The beginnings is not always where things start."  
  
Holding his head, Neville looked at the small creature for a moment. "You're giving me a headache, Kibbie."  
  
"Kibbie knows, sir. Sometimes things like love is hurting."  
  
So, where did this all start? The library? The park?  
  
With a flash of insight, he finally understood. The start was different than the beginning. A loud pop and flash later, he stood in the spot he needed to wait at.  
  
"Mum, quite crying."  
  
"It's just so sweet. I don't mean to cry but he's been sad for so long. And I always hoped she would love him but one can never tell, can they."  
  
"No, dear. Hush now or they'll hear you even down there."  
  
The group sat silently, staring out the window at the pond and the two people sitting underneath the tree.  
  
When Ginny had arrived at the Burrows, she had been surprised to see her mother crying on the porch. It had taken some time to get the older woman calmed down enough to explain herself.  
  
"He's been down there for half an hour. I went out to see if he wanted something to drink or perhaps a bite of nosh but he just smiled up at me with that beautiful smile of his and told me he was perfectly content to wait."  
  
It had taken another fifteen minutes for Ginny to work up the nerve to walk down to the water's edge. He had smiled up at her with the same beautiful smile but said nothing.  
  
"Neville?"  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"Why are you here under the tree? Shouldn't you be at work?"  
  
"I'm at the start of it all. Waiting."  
  
She sat down beside him, slightly confused by his quiet attitude. She'd been looking for him all morning, trying to plan out the perfect way to tell him what she felt. When her mother had told her he was out here, she'd been hurt. Did he not feel the same urgency she felt?  
  
"Are you feeling okay? Nothing bothering you?"  
  
He looked over at her, smiling a calm smile. "I feel better than okay. I feel wonderful. Love sometimes does that."  
  
Leaning over, she put her hand on his forehead, scared that he really was running a fever. He felt cool and his reflexes were working just fine as he grabbed her hand to bring it to his mouth for a kiss.  
  
"I remember the first time I ever saw you out under this tree."  
  
"Of course you do. It was like two days ago."  
  
'No, it was before that. Remember that summer Harry and I came home for the weekend? You were out here one day, reading a book. I think you were trying to get Harry to notice you."  
  
She giggled, thinking of the careful planning that had gone into that scene. "And it worked."  
  
"Yep. He fell hard that day." Neville smoothed the skin on the back of the hand he still held in his own. "So did I. This was the beginning of my love for you. Of course, I didn't call it that then. Harry was my friend and so were you. Today, though, I knew that I needed to come back to the beginning."  
  
"That's beautiful, Neville. Thank you." Something had lifted in her heart listening to him talk. Had he always loved her? How was that possible? "Can I ask you one thing without ruining this moment? If Harry had lived, what would you have done? About me?"  
  
He stared into space but turned to face her before answering. "I would have eventually found someone who would have taken over that immature love I felt for you and changed my heart. Now I don't have to think about it. You came and changed that immature love to something stronger. Something deeper."  
  
"I'm glad you feel that way," she whispered, still slightly confused. "I feel like my feelings for you have changed as well. When I got angry with you the other day, I didn't mean it. I was scared, more than anything. It's been so long since I let myself feel anything other than the basic emotions of hungry and tired that I forget how stressful they can be."  
  
"It's okay, Gin. I can understand that. And if you need some more time to come to same place I am, well, I'll wait. I can wait for you as long as you need me to."  
  
"I don't want you to wait." With a broad smile, she pushed him over so she was straddling him, her hair hanging down to sweep his cheek. "You've been the one pushing lately. Well, it's my time to push. I love you, Neville Longbottom. It's a pretty new emotion for me and I've enjoyed it. I love your little house-elf and your scary backyard. I love the hall of portraits that are as noisy as any family gathering. I love your grandmother, who tells me that my red hair may be sinful. I love when your eyes cross like that because I've gotten close enough to kiss you but won't. That's a new one for me. I think I like it." She pushed at his shoulders, keeping him from lifting himself up. "No, stay there for another sec. I'm not done."  
  
Licking her lips, she smiled at him seductively to see what would happen. Yes, he definitely felt something for her. Interesting.  
  
"I love that you spent the last four years with your life on hold while you helped my family look for me. I know you'll say it was because you were worried about me or maybe because you knew that you loved me even then. But I can't help but wonder if you ever realized that I could have found someone else in that time. It would have torn you up but I love that you would have done it anyway."  
  
His body had stilled as his eyes bored into hers, silently conveying how he felt about that possibility. It wasn't a nice possibility to think about, even for her. If she had turned to someone else, she would have missed out on so much that she knew was hers now that she had this man. He was special. One in a million.  
  
"I love that you love my family already. It wouldn't change my feelings if you didn't but it validates my choice somehow. I have more than enough family to go around and I want to share them with you. Frankly, right now, I need someone to remind them that I'm not spun glass and you've already done that so well."  
  
He waited for her next large pause for breath. "Can I go now?"  
  
"Yes, but all your sentences have to start with 'I love that'. It's how we're playing this game."  
  
His heart pounded as her hands began to stroke his shoulders. He was content to have her over him, for now.  
  
"Okay, I love that you have let your heart out again. I love that you wanted to run the other day but that you didn't go as far away as you could have from your family. I love that you were comfortable enough to come to me. I love that you're wearing my shirt and trousers."  
  
Her blush spread down her neck and he wanted very much to kiss the couple of freckles that are accented on her jaw.  
  
"I love that you can still blush. I love that you said 'I love you' first this time. I love that Gran didn't scare you away forever and that you've calmed her down a bit." Reaching up to push his hands into her hair, he brought her head down closer to his. "I love you, Ginny Weasley."  
  
"Before I let you kiss me, I should tell you that they're watching us from the window."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Oh, the whole clan, I suspect."  
  
With a wicked smile, he brought her closer. "To make it fair, we'll have to do this again in the hallway then. Wouldn't want one side of the family to feel left out."  
  
When he let her up for air, she laughed softly and licked her lips again. "Oh, yes. We'll have to practice this many and many times. I'm sure I can come up with some new material. Let's see, I love that you kiss me like that and I forget my name." She went in for another kiss and promptly forgot a lot of other things. 


End file.
